The  BLUE 

GOOSE 


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SEYMOUR  EATON,  Librarian 


THE   BLUE  GOOSE 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 


BY 


FRANK  LEWIS   NASON 

AUTHOR  OF 
To  THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL 


NEW   YORK 

McCLURK,    PHILLIPS   Sf  Co. 
1903 


COPYRIGHT,  1903,  BY 
McCLURE,  PHILLIPS  &  CO. 


Published,  Maroli,  1903,  K 
Second  Impression 


"So  I  prophesied  as  I  was  commanded:  and  as  I  prophe 
sied,  there  was  a  noise  and  behold  a  shaking,  and  the  bones 
came  together  bone  to  bone. 

"  And,  lo,  the  sinews  and  the  flesh  came  upon  them,  but 
there  was  no  breath  in  them. 

"Son  of  man,  prophesy  unto  the  wind.  Come  from  the 
four  winds,  0  breath,  and  breathe  upon  these  that  they  may 
live. 

"  And  the  breath  came  into  them  and  they  lived" 


MY    FRIEND    OF    TWENTY-ONE    YEARS, 

CHARLES    EMERSON    BEECHER, 

who,  with  infinite  skill  and  patience,  has  breathed 
the  breath  of  life  into  the  dry  bones  of  Earth's  un 
told  ages  of  upward  struggle,  who  has  made  them 
speak  of  the  eternity  of  their  past,  and  has  made 
them  prophesy  hope  for  the  eternity  to  come,  this 
book  is  dedicated  by  the  author. 


M18071 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  BLUE  GOOSE 3 

II.  THE  OLD  MAN 13 

III.  £LISE 21 

IV.  THE  WATCHED  POT  BEGINS  TO  BOIL    .     .  36 

V.    BENNIE    OPENS   THE   POT    AND    FIRMSTONE 

COMES  IN 48 

VI.    THE  FAMILY  CIRCLE 58 

VII.  MR.  MORRISON  TACKLES  A  MAN  WITH  A 
MIND  OF  His  OWN  AND  A  MAN  WITH 
OUT  ONE 68 

VIII.  MADAME  SEEKS  COUNSEL 84 

IX.  THE  MEETING  AT  THE  BLUE  GOOSE     .     .     96 

X.  £LISE  GOES  FORTH  TO  CONQUER      .     .     .111 

XI.  THE  DEVIL'S  ELBOW 124 

XII.  FIGS  AND  THISTLES 138 

XIII.    THE  STORK  AND  THE  CRANES     .     .     .     .148 
[vii] 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIV.    BLINDED  EYES 157 

XV.    BENDING  THE  TWIG 172 

XVI.    AN  INSISTENT  QUESTION 186 

XVII.    THE  BEAEDED  LION 192 

XVIII.    WINNOWED  CHAFF 200 

XIX.  THE  FLY  IN  THE  OINTMENT  .     .     .     .213 

XX.  THE  RIVER  GIVES  UP  ITS  PREY  .     .     .  225 

XXI.    THE  SWORD  THAT  TURNS 235 

XXII.    GOOD  INTENTIONS 245 

XXIII.  AN  UNEXPECTED  RECRUIT 249 

XXIV.  THE  GATHERING  TO  ITS  OWN      .     .     .  254 
XXV.    A  DIVIDED  HOUSE 261 

XXVI.    THE  DAY  OF  RECKONING 271 

XXVII.  PASSING  CLOUDS   .                                    .  283 


[  viii  ] 


THE   BLUE   GOOSE 


CHAPTER    I  •     v:    •   !  ; 

The  Blue  Goose 

66    71  /fAIS  oui!     I  tell  you  one  ting.     One  big 

1 m/i  ting.  Ze  big  man  wiz  ze  glass  eyes,  he  is 
-^  r  JL  vat  you  call  one  slik  stoff.  Ze  big  man 
wiz  ze  glass  eyes." 

"The  old  man?" 

"Zat's  him!  One  slik  stoff!  Ecoutez!  Listen! 
One  day,  you  mek  ze  gran'  trip.  Look  hout!  "  Pierre 
made  a  gesture  as  of  a  dog  shaking  a  rat. 

The  utter  darkness  of  the  underground  laboratory 
was  parted  in  solid  masses,  by  bars  of  light  that 
spurted  from  the  cracks  of  a  fiercely  glowing  fur 
nace.  One  shaft  fell  on  a  row  of  large,  unstoppered 
bottles.  From  these  bottles  fumes  arose,  mingled, 
and  fell  in  stifling  clouds  of  fleecy  white.  From  an 
other  bottle  in  Pierre's  hands  a  dense  red  smoke  welled 
from  a  colourless  liquid,  crowded  through  the  neck, 
wriggled  through  the  bar  of  light,  and  sank  in  the 
darkness  beneath.  The  darkness  was  uncanny,  the 
fumes  suffocating,  the  low  hum  of  the  furnace  forcing 
out  the  shafts  of  light  from  the  cracks  of  the  impris 
oning  walls  infernally  suggestive. 

[3] 


THE  BLUE  GOOSE 
Luna  shivered.  He  was  ignorant,  therefore  super 
stitious,  and  superstition  strongly  suggested  the  un- 
natur4alf  » .'He ;  knew  that  furnaces  and  retorts  and 
acids  tand  alkalies  were  necessary  to  the  refinement  of 
-'geld.  ;  IJe*  feared  them,  yet  he  had  used  them,  but  he 
had  used  them  where  the  full  light  of  day  robbed 
them  of  half  their  terrors.  In  open  air  acids  might 
smoke,  but  drifting  winds  would  brush  away  the 
fumes.  Furnaces  might  glow,  but  their  glow  would 
be  as  naught  in  sunlight.  There  was  no  darkness  in 
which  devils  could  hide  to  pounce  on  him  unawares, 
no  walls  to  imprison  him.  The  gold  he  retorted  on 
his  shovel  was  his,  and  he  had  no  fear  of  the  law.  In 
the  underground  laboratory  of  Pierre  the  element  of 
fear  was  ever  present.  The  gold  that  the  furnace 
retorted  was  stolen,  and  Luna  was  the  thief.  There 
were  other  thieves,  but  that  did  not  matter  to  him. 
He  stole  gold  from  the  mill.  Others  stole  gold  from 
the  mine.  It  all  came  to  Pierre  and  to  Pierre's  under 
ground  furnace.  He  stood  in  terror  of  the  super 
natural,  of  the  law,  and,  most  of  all,  of  Pierre.  In 
the  darkness  barred  with  fierce  jets  of  light,  impris 
oned  by  walls  that  he  could  not  see,  cut  off  from  the 
free  air  of  open  day,  stifled  by  pungent  gases  that 
stung  him,  throat  and  eye,  he  felt  an  uncanny  op 
pression,  fear  of  the  unknown,  fear  of  the  law,  most 
of  all  fear  of  Pierre. 

Pierre  watched  him  through  his  mantle  of  dark- 
[4] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

ness.  He  thrust  forward  his  head,  and  a  bar  of  light 
smote  him  across  his  open  lips.  It  showed  his  gleam 
ing  teeth  white  and  shut,  his  black  moustache,  his 
swarthy  lips  parted  in  a  sardonic  smile ;  that  was  all. 
A  horrible  grin  on  a  background  of  inky  black. 

Luna  shrank. 

"  Leave  off  your  devil's  tricks." 

"  Moi?  " 

Pierre  replaced  the  bottle  of  acid  on  the  shelf  and 
picked  up  a  pair  of  tongs.  As  he  raised  the  cover  of 
the  glowing  crucible  a  sudden  transformation  took 
place.  The  upper  part  of  the  laboratory  blazed  out 
fiercely,  and  in  this  light  Pierre  moved  with  gesticu 
lating  arms,  the  lower  part  of  his  body  wholly  hid 
den.  He  lifted  the  crucible,  shook  it  for  a  moment 
with  an  oscillatory  motion,  then  replaced  it  on  the  fire. 
He  turned  again  to  Luna. 

"  Hall  ze  time  I  mek  ze  explain.  Hall  ze  time  you 
mek  ze  question.  Comment?  " 

Luna's  courage  was  returning  in  the  light. 

"  You're  damned  thick-headed,  when  it  suits  you, 
all  right.  Well,  I'll  explain.  Last  clean-up  I  brought 
you  two  pounds  of  amalgam  if  it  was  an  ounce.  All 
I  got  out  of  it  was  fifty  dollars.  You  said  that  was 
my  share.  Hansen  brought  you  a  chunk  of  quartz 
from  the  mine.  He  showed  it  to  me  first.  If  I  know 
gold  from  sulphur,  there  was  sixty  dollars  in  it.  Han- 
sen  got  five  out  of  it." 

[5] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

Pierre  interrupted. 

"  You  mek  mention  ze  name." 

"  There's  no  one  to  hear  in  this  damned  hell  of 
yours." 

"  Non,"  Pierre  answered.  "  You  mek  mention  in 
zis  hell.  Bimby  you  mek  mention,"  Pierre  gave  an  ex 
pressive  upward  jerk  with  his  thumb,  then  shrugged 
his  shoulders. 

"  I'll  look  out  for  that,"  Luna  answered,  impa 
tiently.  "  I'm  after  something  else  now.  I'm  get 
ting  sick  of  pinching  the  mill  and  bringing  the  stuff 
here  for  nothing.  So  are  the  rest  of  the  boys.  We 
ain't  got  no  hold  on  you  and  you  ain't  playing  fair. 
You've  got  to  break  even  or  this  thing's  going  to 
stop." 

Pierre  made  no  reply  to  Luna.  He  picked  up  the 
tongs,  lifted  the  crucible  from  the  fire,  and  again  re 
placed  it.  Then  he  brought  out  an  ingot  mould  and 
laid  it  on  a  ledge  of  the  furnace.  The  crucible  was 
again  lifted  from  the  fire,  and  its  contents  were 
emptied  in  the  mould.  Pierre  and  Luna  both  watched 
the  glowing  metal.  As  it  slowly  cooled,  iridescent 
sheens  of  light  swept  over  its  surface  like  the  chang 
ing  colours  of  a  dying  dolphin.  Pierre  held  up  the 
mould  to  Luna. 

"  How  much  she  bin  ?  " 

Luna  looked  covetously  at  the  softly  glowing  metal. 
"  Two  hundred." 

[6] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

"  Blen.  She's  bin  ze  amalgam,  ze  quart',  ze  hozer 
stoff.  Da's  hall." 

Luna  looked  sceptical. 

"  That's  too  thin.  How  many  times  have  you  fired 
up?" 

"  Zis ! "  Pierre  held  up  a  single  emphasizing 
finger. 

"  We'll  let  that  go,"  Luna  answered ;  "  but  you 
listen  now.  One  of  the  battery  men  is  off  to-night. 
I'm  going  to  put  Morrison  on  substitute.  He's  go 
ing  to  break  a  stem  or  something.  The  mortar's  full 
to  the  dies.  We're  going  to  clean  it  out.  I  know  how 
much  it  will  pan.  It's  coming  to  you.  You  divide 
fair  or  it's  the  last  you'll  get.  I'll  hide  it  out  in  the 
usual  place." 

"Lookhout!    Da's  hall!" 

The  other  laughed  impatiently. 

"  Getting  scared,  Frenchy  ?  Where's  your  nerve  ?  " 

"Nerf!  Nerf!"  Pierre  danced  from  foot  to 
foot,  waving  his  arms.  "  Sacre  plastron!  You  mek 
ze  fuse  light.  You  sit  on  him,  heh?  Bimeby,  pretty 
soon,  you  got  no  nerf .  You  got  noddings.  You  got 
one  big  gris-spot  on  ze  rock.  Da's  hall."  Pierre  sub 
sided,  with  a  gesture  of  intense  disgust. 

Luna  snapped  his  watch  impatiently. 

"  It's  my  shift,  Frenchy.  I've  got  to  go  in  a  few 
minutes." 

"  Blen!  Go !  "   Pierre  spoke  without  spirit.   "  Mek 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

of  yourself  one  gran'  folie.  Mais,  when  ze  shot  go, 
an'  you  sail  in  ze  air,  don'  come  down  on  ze  Blue 
Goose,  on  me,  Pierre.  I  won't  bin  here,  da's  hall." 

Luna  turned. 

"  I  tell  you  I've  got  to  go  now.  I  wish  you'd  tell 
me  what's  the  matter  with  the  old  man." 

Pierre  roused  himself. 

"  Noddings.  Ze  hoi'  man  has  noddings  ze  mat- 
taire.  It  is  you!  You!  Ze  hoi'  man,  he  go  roun' 
lak  he  kick  by  ze  dev'.  He  mek  his  glass  eyes  to  shine 
here  an'  twinkle  zere,  an'  you  mek  ze  gran'  chuckle, 
'  He  see  noddings.'  He  see  more  in  one  look  dan  you 
pack  in  your  tick  head!  I  tol'  you  look  hout;  da's 
hall!" 

Luna  jammed  his  watch  into  his  pocket  and  rose. 

"  It's  all  right,  Frenchy.  I'll  give  you  another 
chance.  To-day's  Thursday.  Saturday  they'll  clean 
up  at  the  mill.  It  will  be  a  big  one.  I  want  my  rake- 
off.  The  boys  want  theirs.  It  all  comes  to  the  Blue 
Goose,  one  way  or  another.  You  think  you're  pretty 
smooth  stuff.  That's  all  right ;  but  let  me  tell  you 
one  thing:  if  there's  any  procession  heading  for 
Canon  City,  you'll  be  in  it,  too." 

Canon  City  was  the  State  hostelry.  Occasionally 
the  law  selected  unwilling  guests.  It  was  not  over- 
laige,  nor  was  it  overcrowded.  Had  it  sheltered  all 
deserving  objects,  the  free  population  of  the  State 
would  have  been  visibly  diminished. 

[8] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

Pierre  only  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  followed 
Luna  up  the  stairs  to  the  outer  door,  and  watched 
the  big  mill  foreman  as  he  walked  down  the  trail  to 
the  mill.  Then,  as  was  his  custom  when  perturbed  in 
mind,  Pierre  crossed  the  dusty  waggon  trail  and 
seated  himself  on  a  boulder,  leaning  his  back  against 
a  scrubby  spruce.  He  let  his  eyes  rest  contentedly  on 
a  big,  square-faced  building.  Rough  stone  steps  led 
up  to  a  broad  veranda,  from  which  rose,  in  barbaric 
splendour,  great  sheets  of  shining  plate-glass,  that 
gave  an  unimpeded  view  of  a  long  mahogany  bar 
backed  by  tiers  of  glasses  and  bottles,  doubled  by  re 
flection  from  polished  mirrors  that  reached  to  the 
matched-pine  ceiling. 

Across  the  room  from  the  bar,  roulette  and  faro 
tables,  bright  with  varnish  and  gaudy  with  nickel 
trimmings,  were  waiting  with  invitations  to  feverish 
excitement.  The  room  was  a  modern  presentation  of 
Scylla  and  Chary bdis.  Scylla,  the  bar,  stimulated  to 
the  daring  of  Charybdis  across  the  way,  and  Charyb- 
dis,  the  roulette,  sent  its  winners  to  celebrate  success, 
or  its  victims  to  deaden  the  pain  of  loss. 

At  the  far  end  of  the  room  a  glass-covered  arcade 
stood  in  advance  of  doors  to  private  club-rooms.  At 
the  arcade  an  obliging  attendant  passed  out  gold  and 
silver  coins,  for  a  consideration,  in  exchange  for 
crumpled  time-checks  and  greasy  drafts. 

Pierre  grinned  and  rubbed  his  hands.     Above  the 

[9] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

plate  glass  on  the  outside  a  gorgeous  rainbow  arched 
high  on  the  painted  front.  Inscribed  within,  in 
iridescent  letters,  was :  "  The  Blue  Goose.  Pierre 
La  Martine."  Beneath  the  spring  of  the  rainbow, 
for  the  benefit  of  those  who  could  not  read,  was  a 
huge  blue  goose  floating  aimlessly  in  a  sheet  of  bluer 
water. 

This  was  all  of  the  Blue  Goose  that  was  visible  to 
the  eyes  of  the  uninitiated ;  of  the  initiated  there  were 
not  many. 

Beneath  the  floor  was  a  large  cellar,  wherein  was  a 
fierce-looking  furnace,  which  on  occasion  grew  very 
red  with  its  labours.  There  were  pungent  jars  and 
ghostly  vessels  and  a  litter  of  sacks,  and  much  spar 
kling  dust  on  the  earthen  floor.  All  this  Pierre  knew, 
and  a  few  others,  though  even  these  had  not  seen 
it. 

Beneath  the  shadow  of  the  wings  of  the  Blue  Goose 
dwelt  a  very  plain  woman,  who  looked  chronically 
frightened,  and  a  very  beautiful  girl  who  did  not. 
The  scared  woman  was  Madame  La  Martine;  the  un- 
scared  girl  passed  for  their  daughter,  but  about  the 
daughter  no  one  asked  questions  of  Pierre.  About 
the  Blue  Goose,  its  bar,  and  its  gaming-tables  Pierre 
was  eloquent,  even  with  strangers.  About  his  daugh 
ter  and  other  things  his  acquaintances  had  learned  to 
keep  silence;  as  for  strangers,  they  soon  learned. 

Obviously  the  mission  of  the  Blue  Goose  was  to  en- 
[10] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

tertain;  with  the  multitude  this  mission  passed  cur 
rent  at  its  face  value,  but  there  were  a  few  who  chal 
lenged  it.  Now  and  then  a  grocer  or  a  butcher  made 
gloomy  comments  as  he  watched  a  growing  accumula 
tion  of  books  that  would  not  prove  attractive  to  the 
most  confirmed  bibliophile.  Men  went  to  the  Blue 
Goose  with  much  money,  but  came  out  with  none,  for 
the  bar  and  roulette  required  cash  settlements.  Their 
wives  went  in  to  grocers  and  butchers  with  no  money 
but  persuasive  tongues,  and  came  forth  laden  with 
spoils. 

Pandora  could  raise  no  taxes  for  schools,  so  there 
were  none.  Preachers  came  and  offered  their  wares 
without  money  and  without  price,  but  there  were  no 
churches.  For  the  wares  of  the  preachers  flushed  no 
faces  and  burned  no  throats,  nor  were  there  rattles 
even  in  contribution  boxes,  and  there  was  no  whirr  of 
painted  wheels.  Even  the  hundred  rumbling  stamps 
of  the  Rainbow  mill  might  as  well  have  pounded 
empty  air  or  clashed  their  hard  steel  shoes  on  their 
hard  steel  dies  for  all  the  profit  that  came  to  the  far 
away  stockholders  of  the  great  Rainbow  mine  and 
mill. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  many  apparently  unrelated 
facts  were  gathered  together  by  the  diligent  but  un- 
prosperous,  and,  being  thus  gathered,  pointed  to  a 
very  inevitable  conclusion.  Nothing  and  no  one  was 
prosperous,  save  Pierre  and  his  gorgeous  Blue 

[in 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

Goose.  For  Pierre  was  a  power  in  the  land.  He 
feared  neither  God  nor  the  devil.  The  devil  was  the 
bogie-man  of  the  priest.  As  for  God,  who  ever  saw 
him?  But  of  some  men  Pierre  had  much  fear,  and 
among  the  same  was  "  the  hoi'  man  "  at  the  mill. 


[12] 


CHAPTER    II 

The  Old  Man 

AFTER  leaving  the  Blue  Goose  Luna  went 
straight  to  the  superintendent's  office.  He 
was  nettled  rather  than  worried  by  Pierre's 
cautions.  Worry  implied  doubt  of  his  own  wisdom, 
as  well  as  fear  of  the  old  man.  Superintendents  had 
come  to,  and  departed  from,  the  Rainbow.  Defiant 
fanfares  had  heralded  their  coming,  confusion  had 
reigned  during  their  sojourn,  their  departure  had 
been  duly  celebrated  at  the  Blue  Goose.  This  had 
been  the  invariable  sequence.  Through  all  these 
changes  Pierre  was  complacently  confident,  but  he 
never  lost  his  head.  The  bottles  of  the  Blue  Goose  bar 
were  regularly  drained,  alike  for  welcoming  and  for 
speeding  the  departing  incumbent  at  the  Rainbow. 

The  roulette  whirred  cheerfully,  gold  and  silver 
coins  clinked  merrily,  the  underground  furnace  red 
dened  and  dulled  at  regular  periods,  and  much  lawful 
money  passed  back  and  forth  between  the  Blue  Goose 
and  its  patrons.  Not  that  the  passing  back  and  forth 
was  equal;  Pierre  attended  to  that.  His  even  teeth 
gleamed  between  smiling  lips,  his  swarthy  cheeks 
[13] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

glowed,  and  day  by  day  his  black  hair  seemed  to  grow 
more  sleek  and  oily,  and  his  hands  smoother  with 
much  polishing. 

Pierre  read  printed  words  with  ease.  That  which 
was  neither  printed  nor  spoken  was  spelled  out,  some 
times  with  wrinkling  of  brows  and  narrowing  of  eyes, 
but  with  unmistakable  correctness  in  the  end.  From 
the  faces  and  actions  of  men  he  gathered  wisdom,  and 
this  wisdom  was  a  lamp  to  his  feet,  and  in  dark  places 
gave  much  light  to  his  eyes.  Thus  it  happened  that 
with  the  coming  of  Richard  Firmstone  came  also 
great  caution  to  Pierre. 

The  present  superintendent  blew  no  fanfares  on  his 
new  trumpet,  he  expressed  no  opinion  of  his  predeces 
sors,  and  gave  no  hint  of  his  future  policy. 

Mr.  Morrison,  who  oiled  his  hair  and  wore  large 
diamonds  in  a  much-starched,  collarless  shirt  while  at 
the  bar  of  the  Blue  Goose,  donned  overalls  and  jump 
ers  while  doing  "  substitute  "  at  the  mill,  and  be 
tween  times  kept  alive  the  spirit  of  rebellion  in  the 
bosoms  of  down-trodden,  capitalist-ridden  labour. 
Morrison  freely  voiced  the  opinion  that  the  Rainbow 
crowd  had  experienced  religion,  and  had  sent  out  a 
Sunday-school  superintendent  to  reform  the  workmen 
and  to  count  the  dollars  that  dropped  from  beneath 
the  stamps  of  the  big  mill.  In  this  opinion  Luna,  the 
mill  foreman,  concurred.  He  even  raised  the  ante, 
solemnly  averring  that  the  old  man  opened  the  mill 
[14] 


THE    OLD    MAN 

with  prayer,  sang  hallelujahs  at  change  of  shift,  and 
invoked  divine  blessing  before  chewing  his  grub. 
Whereat  the  down-trodden  serfs  of  soulless  corpora 
tions  cheered  long  and  loud,  and  called  for  fresh  obla 
tions  at  the  bar  of  the  Blue  Goose. 

All  these  things  Luna  pondered  in  his  mind,  and 
his  indignation  waxed  hot  at  Pierre. 

"  The  damned  old  frog-eater's  losing  his  nerve ; 
that's  what !  I  ain't  going  to  be  held  up  by  no  frog- 
spawn." 

He  opened  the  office  door  and  clumped  up  to  the 
railing. 

The  superintendent  looked  up. 

"What  is  it,  Luna?" 

"  Long,  on  number  ten  battery,  is  sick  and  off  shift. 
Shall  we  hang  up  ten,  or  put  on  Morrison  ?  " 

The  superintendent  smiled. 

"  Is  it  Morrison,  or  hang  up  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  question  was  disconcerting.  The  foreman 
shifted  his  footing. 

"  Morrison  is  all  right,"  he  said,  doggedly.  "  He's 
a  good  battery  man.  Things  ain't  pushing  at  the 
Blue  Goose,  and  he  can  come  as  well  as  not." 

"  What's  the  matter  with  Morrison?  "  The  super 
intendent's  smile  broadened. 

The  foreman  looked  puzzled. 

"  I've  just  been  telling  you — he's  all  right." 

"  That's  so.     Only,  back  east,  when  a  horse  jockey 
[15] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

gets  frothy  about  the  good  points  of  his  horse,  we 
look  sharp." 

The  foreman  grew  impatient. 

"  You  haven't  told  me  whether  to  hang  up  ten  or 
not." 

"  I'm  not  going  to.  You  are  foreman  of  the  mill. 
Put  on  anyone  you  want ;  fire  anyone  you  want.  It's 
nothing  to  me ;  only,"  he  looked  hard,  "  you  know 
what  we're  running  this  outfit  for." 

The  foreman  appeared  defiant.  Guilty  thoughts 
were  spurring  him  to  unwise  defence. 

"  If  the  ore  ain't  pay  I  can't  get  it  out." 

"  I'll  attend  to  the  ore,  that's  my  business.  Get 
out  what  there  is  in  it,  that's  yours."  He  leaned 
forward  to  his  papers. 

The  foreman  shifted  uneasily.  His  defence  was 
not  complete.  He  was  not  sure  that  he  had  been  at 
tacked.  He  knew  Morrison  of  the  Blue  Goose.  He 
knew  the  workings  of  the  mill.  He  had  thought  he 
knew  the  old  man.  He  was  not  so  sure  now.  He  was 
not  even  sure  how  much  or  how  little  he  had  let  out. 
Perhaps  Pierre's  words  had  rattled  him.  He  shifted 
from  foot  to  foot,  twirling  his  hat  on  his  fingers.  He 
half  expected,  half  hoped,  and  half  waited  for  an 
other  opening.  None  came.  Through  the  muffled 
roar  of  the  stamps  he  was  conscious  of  the  sharp 
scratch  of  the  superintendent's  pen.  Then  came  the 
boom  of  the  big  whistle.  It  was  change  of  shift.  The 
[16] 


THE    OLD    MAN 

jar  of  the   office  door   closing  behind  him  was   not 
heard.     At  the  mill  he  found  Morrison. 

"  You  go  on  ten,  in  Long's  place,"  he  said,  gruffly, 
as  he  entered  the  mill. 

Morrison  stared  at  the  retreating  foreman. 

"  What  in  hell,"  he  began ;  then,  putting  things  to 
gether  in  his  mind,  he  shook  his  head,  and  followed 
the  foreman  into  the  mill. 

The  superintendent  was  again  interrupted  by  the 
rasping  of  hobnailed  shoes  on  the  office  floor  and  the 
startled  creak  of  the  office  railing  as  a  large,  loose- 
jointed  man  leaned  heavily  against  it.  His  trousers, 
tucked  into  a  pair  of  high-laced,  large-eyed  shoes, 
were  belted  at  the  waist  in  a  conspicuous  roll.  A 
faded  gray  shirt,  rolled  up  at  the  sleeves,  disclosed 
a  red  undershirt  and  muscular  arms.  A  well-shaped 
head  with  grey  streaked  hair,  and  a  smooth,  imper 
turbable  face  was  shaded  by  a  battered  sombrero  that 
was  thrust  back  and  turned  squarely  up  in  front. 

The  superintendent's  smile  had  nothing  puzzling 
now. 

"  Hello,  Zephyr.     Got  another  Camp  Bird?  " 

"  Flying  higher'n  a  Camp  Bird  this  time." 

"How's  that?" 

"  Right  up  to  the  golden  gates  this  time,  sure.    It's 
straight  goods.     St.  Peter  ain't  going  to  take  no  post 
prandial  siestas   from   now  on.      I'm  timbering   my 
shots  to  keep  from  breaking  the  sky.     Tell  you  what, 
[17] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

I'm  jarring  them  mansions  in  heaven  wuss'n  a  New 
York  subway  contractor  them  Fifth  Avenue  palaces." 
Zephyr  paused  and  glanced  languidly  at  the  superin 
tendent. 

Firmstone  chuckled. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said. 

"  I've  gone  as  far  as  I  can  without  flying.  It's  a 
lead  from  the  golden  streets  of  the  New  Jerusalem. 
Followed  it  up  to  the  foot  of  Bingham  Pass ;  caught 
it  above  the  slide,  then  it  took  up  the  cliff,  and  disap 
peared  in  the  cerulean.  Say,  Goggles,  how  are  you 
off  for  chuck?  I've  been  up  against  glory,  and  I'm 
down  hungrier  than  a  she-bear  that's  skipped  summer 
and  hibernated  two  winters." 

"  Good !  Guess  Bennie  will  fix  us  up  something. 
Can  you  wait  a  few  minutes  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  can.  I've  been  practising  on  that  for 
years.  No  telling  when  such  things  will  come  in 
handy.  You  don't  object  to  music,  Goggles?  " 

"  Not  to  music,  no,"  Firmstone  answered,  with  an 
amused  glance  at  Zephyr. 

Zephyr,  unruffled,  drew  from  his  shirt  a  well-worn 
harmonica. 

"  Music  hath  charms,"  he  remarked,  brushing  the 
instrument  on  the  sleeve  of  his  shirt.  "  Referring  to 
my  savage  breast,  not  yours." 

He  placed  the  harmonica  to  his  lips,  holding  it  in 
hollowed  hands.  His  oscillating  breath  jarred  from 
[18] 


THE    OLD    MAN 

the  metal  reeds  the  doleful  strains  of  Home,  Sweet 
Home,  muffled  by  the  hollow  of  his  hands  into  mourn 
ful  cadences. 

At  last  Firmstone  closed  his  desk. 

"  If  your  breast  is  sufficiently  soothed,  let's  see  what 
Bennie  can  do  for  your  stomach." 

As  they  passed  from  the  office  Zephyr  carefully  re 
placed  the  harmonica  in  his  shirt. 

"  I'd  rather  be  the  author  of  that  touching  little 
song  than  the  owner  of  the  Inferno.  That's  my  new 
claim,"  he  remarked,  distantly. 

Firmstone  laughed. 

"  I  thought  your  claim  was  nearer  heaven." 

"  The  two  are  not  far  apart.  '  Death,  like  a  nar 
row  sea,  divides.'  But  my  reminiscences  were  getting 
historical,  which  you  failed  to  remark.  I  ain't  no 
Wolfe  and  Pierre  ain't  no  Montcalm,  nor  the  Heights 
of  Abraham  ain't  the  Blue  Goose.  Pierre's  a  hog. 
At  least,  he's  a  close  second.  A  hog  eats  snakes  and 
likewise  frogs.  Pierre's  only  got  as  far  as  frogs,  last 
I  heard.  Pierre's  bad.  Morrison's  bad.  Luna  ain't. 
He  thinks  he  is;  but  he  ain't.  I'm  not  posting  you 
nor  nothing.  I'm  only  meditating  out  loud.  That's 
all." 

They  entered  the  mill  boarding-house.  Bennie, 
the  cook,  greeted  Zephyr  effusively. 

"  Goggles  invited  me  to  pay  my  respects  to  you," 
Zephyr  remarked.  "  I'm  empty,  and  I'm  thinking 
[19] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

you  can  satisfy  my  longing  as  nothing  else  can 
do." 

Zephyr  addressed  himself  to  Bennie's  viands.  At 
last  he  rose  from  the  table. 

"  To  eat  and  to  sleep  are  the  chief  ends  of  man.  I 
have  eaten,  and  now  I  see  I  am  tired.  With  your  con 
sent,  uttered  or  unexpressed,  I'll  wrap  the  drapery  of 
my  bunk  around  me  and  take  a  snooze.  And  say, 
Goggles,"  he  added,  "  if,  the  next  time  you  inventory 
stock,  you  are  shy  a  sack  of  flour  and  a  side  of  bacon, 
you  can  remark  to  the  company  that  prospectors  is 
thick  around  here,  and  that  prospectors  is  prone  to 
evil  as  the  sparks  fly  upward.  That's  where  the  flour 
and  bacon  are  going.  Up  to  where  St.  Peter  can  smell 
them  cooking;  leastways  he  can  if  he  hangs  his  nose 
over  the  wall  and  the  wind's  right." 


[20] 


CHAPTER    III 

Elise 

BENNIE  was  an  early  riser,  as  became  a  faith 
ful  cook ;  but,  early  as  he  usually  was,  this 
morning  he  was  startled  into  wakefulness  by  a 
jarring  chug,  as  Zephyr,  with  a  relieved  grunt, 
dropped  a  squashy  sack  on  the  floor  near  his  bunk. 
Bennie  sprang  to  a  sitting  posture,  rubbing  his 
sleepy  eyes  to  clear  his  vision ;  but,  before  he  could 
open  his  eyes  or  his  mouth  beyond  a  startled  ejacu 
lation,  Zephyr  had  departed.  He  soon  reappeared. 
There  was  another  chug,  another  grunt,  and  another 
departure.  Four  times  this  was  repeated.  Then 
Zephyr  seated  himself  on  the  bunk,  and,  pushing  back 
his  sombrero,  mopped  his  perspiring  brow. 

"  What  the — "  Bennie  started  in,  but  Zephyr's  up 
lifted  hand  restrained  him. 

"  The  race  is  not  to  the  swift,  Julius  Benjamin. 
The  wise  hound  holds  his  yap  till  he  smells  a  hot  foot. 
Them  indecisive  sacks  is  hot  footses,  Julius  Benja 
min  ;  but  it  isn't  your  yap,  not  by  quite  some." 

"  What's  up,  Zephyr?  "  asked  Bennie.  "  I'm  not 
leaky." 

"  Them  gelatinous  sacks,"  Zephyr  went  on,  eyeing 
[21] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

them  meditatively,  "  I  found  hidden  in  the  bushes 
near  the  mine,  and  they  contain  mighty  interesting 
matter.  They're  an  epitome  of  life.  They  started 
straight,  but  missed  connections.  Pulled  up  at  the 
wrong  station.  I've  thrown  the  switch,  and  now  you 
and  me,  Julius,  will  make  it  personally  conducted  the 
rest  of  the  trip." 

"  Hm !  "  mused  Bennie.  "  I  see.  That  stuff's  been 
pinched  from  the  mill." 

"  Good  boy,  Julius  Benjamin!  You're  doing  well. 
You'll  go  into  words  of  two  syllables  next." 

Zephyr  nodded,  with  a  languid  smile. 

"  But,  to  recapitulate,  as  my  old  school-teacher  used 
to  say,  there's  thousands  of  dollars  in  them  sacks. 
The  Rainbow  ain't  coughing  up  no  such  rich  stuff  as 
that.  That  rock  is  broken ;  ergo,  it's  been  under  the 
stamps.  It's  coarse  and  fine,  from  which  I  infer  it 
hasn't  been  through  the  screens.  And  further 
more " 

Bennie  interrupted  eagerly. 

"  They've  just  hung  up  the  stamps  and  raked  out 
the  rich  stuff  that's  settled  between  the  dies ! " 

"  Naturally,  gold  being  heavier  than  quartz.  Jul 
ius  Benjamin,  you're  fit  for  the  second  reader." 

Bennie  laughed  softly. 

"  It's  Luna  or  Morrison  been  robbing  the  mill. 
Won't  Frenchy  pull  the  long  face  when  he  hears  of 
your  find?  " 

[22] 


ELISE 

Zephyr  made  no  farther  reply  than  to  blow  There'll 
Be  a  Hot  Time  from  pursed  lips  as  he  rolled  a  cigar 
ette. 

"  So  there  will  be,"  Bennie  answered. 

"  Not  to-night,  Bennie."  Zephyr  was  puffing 
meditative  whiffs  in  the  air.  "  Great  things  move 
slowly.  Richard  Firmstone  is  great,  Benjamin;  leave 
it  to  him." 

Bennie  was  already  dressed,  and  Zephyr,  throwing 
the  stub  of  his  cigarette  through  the  open  window, 
followed  him  to  the  kitchen.  He  ate  his  specially  pre 
pared  breakfast  with  an  excellent  appetite. 

"  I  think  I'll  raise  my  bet.  I  mentioned  a  sack  of 
flour  and  a  side  of  bacon.  I'll  take  a  can  of  coffee  and 
a  dab  of  sugar.  St.  Peter'll  appreciate  that.  'Tis 
well  to  keep  on  the  right  side  of  the  old  man.  Some 
of  us  may  have  occasion  to  knock  at  his  gate  before 
the  summer  is  over.  You've  heard  of  my  new  claim, 
Bennie?" 

Bennie  made  no  reply.  Between  packing  up 
Zephyr's  supplies,  attending  to  breakfast  for  the  men, 
and  thinking  of  the  sacks  of  stolen  ore,  he  was  some 
what  preoccupied. 

Zephyr  stowed  the  supplies  in  his  pack  and  raised 
it  to  his  shoulder.  Bennie  looked  up  in  surprise. 

"  You're  not  going  now,  are  you?  " 

Zephyr  was  carefully  adjusting  the  straps  of  his 
pack. 

[23] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

"  It  looks  pretty  much  that  way,  Benjamin.  When 
a  man's  got  all  he  wants,  it's  time  for  him  to  lope.  If 
he  stays,  he  might  get  more  and  possibly — less." 

"  What  will  I  do  with  these  sacks?  "  Bennie  asked 
hurriedly,  as  Zephyr  passed  through  the  door. 

Zephyr  made  no  reply,  further  than  softly  to  whis 
tle  Break  the  News  to  Mother  as  he  swung  into  the 
trail.  He  clumped  sturdily  along,  apparently  un 
mindful  of  the  rarefied  air  that  would  ordinarily  make 
an  unburdened  man  gasp  for  breath.  His  lips  were 
still  pursed,  though  they  had  ceased  to  give  forth 
sound.  He  came  to  the  nearly  level  terrace  whereon, 
among  scattered  boulders,  were  clustered  the  squat 
shanties  of  the  town  of  Pandora. 

He  merely  glanced  at  the  Blue  Goose,  whose  pol 
ished  windows  were  just  beginning  to  glow  with  the 
light  of  the  rising  sun.  He  saw  a  door  open  at  the 
far  end  of  the  house  and  Madame  La  Martine  emerge, 
a  broom  in  her  hands  and  a  dust-cloth  thrown  over  one 
shoulder. 

Pierre's  labours  ended  late.  Madame's  began  very 
early.  Both  had  an  unvarying  procession.  Pierre 
had  much  hilarious  company;  it  was  his  business  to 
keep  it  so.  He  likewise  had  many  comforting 
thoughts;  these  cost  him  no  effort.  The  latter  came 
as  a  logical  sequence  to  the  former.  Madame  had  no 
company,  hilarious  or  otherwise.  Instead  of  com 
placent  thoughts,  she  had  anxiety.  And  so  it  came 
[24] 


ELISE 

to  pass  that,  while  Pierre  grew  sleek  and  smooth  with 
the  passing  of  years,  Madame  developed  many 
wrinkles  and  grey  hairs  and  a  frightened  look,  from 
the  proffering  of  wares  that  were  usually  thrust  aside 
with  threatening  snarls  and  many  harsh  words. 
Pierre  was  not  alone  in  the  unstinted  pouring  forth 
of  the  wine  of  pleasure  for  the  good  of  his  compan 
ions  and  in  uncorking  his  vials  of  wrath  for  the  benefit 
of  his  wife. 

Zephyr  read  the  whole  dreary  life  at  a  glance.  A 
fleeting  thought  came  to  Zephyr.  How  would  it  have 
been  with  Madame  had  she  years  ago  chosen  him  in 
stead  of  Pierre?  A  smile,  half  pitying,  half  contempt 
uous,  was  suggested  by  an  undecided  quiver  of  the 
muscles  of  his  face,  more  pronounced  by  the  light  in  his 
expressive  eyes.  He  left  the  waggon  trail  that  zig 
zagged  up  the  steep  grade  beyond  the  outskirts  of  the 
town,  cutting  across  their  sharp  angles  in  a  straight 
line.  Near  the  foot  of  an  almost  perpendicular  cliff 
he  again  picked  up  the  trail.  Through  a  notch  in 
the  brow  of  the  cliff  a  solid  bar  of  water  shot  forth. 
The  solid  bar,  in  its  fall  broken  to  a  misty  spray,  fell 
into  a  mossy  basin  at  the  cliff's  foot,  regathered,  and 
then,  sliding  and  twisting  in  its  rock-strewn  bed, 
gurgled  among  nodding  flowers  and  slender,  waving 
willows  that  were  fanned  into  motion  by  the  breath 
of  the  falling  spray.  Where  the  brook  crossed  the 
trail  Zephyr  stood  still.  Not  all  at  once.  There  was 
[25] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

an  indescribable  suggestion  of  momentum  overcome 
by  the  application  of  perfectly  balanced  power. 

Zephyr  did  not  whistle,  even  softly.  Instead,  there 
was  a  low  hum — 

But  the  maiden  in  the  garden 
Was  the  fairest  flower  of  all. 

Zephyr  deliberately  swung  his  pack  from  his  shoul 
ders,  deposited  it  on  the  ground,  and  as  deliberately 
seated  himself  on  the  pack.  There  was  an  unwonted 
commotion  among  the  cluster  of  thrifty  plants  at 
which  Zephyr  was  looking  expectantly.  A  laughing 
face  with  large  eyes  sparkling  with  mischievous  de 
light  looked  straight  into  his  own.  As  the  girl  rose 
to  her  feet  she  tossed  a  long,  heavy  braid  of  black 
hair  over  her  shoulder. 

"  You  thought  you  would  scare  me ;  now,  didn't 
you  ?  "  She  came  forth  from  the  tangled  plants  and 
stood  before  him. 

Zephyr's  eyes  were  resting  on  the  girl's  face  with 
a  smile  of  quiet  approbation.  Tall  and  slender,  she 
was  dressed  in  a  dark  gown,  whose  sailor  blouse  was 
knotted  at  the  throat  with  a  red  scarf;  at  her  belt  a 
holster  showed  a  silver-mounted  revolver.  An  oval 
face  rested  on  a  shapely  neck,  as  delicately  poised  as 
the  nodding  flowers  she  held  in  her  hand.  A  rich 
glow,  born  of  perfect  health  and  stimulating  air, 
burned  beneath  the  translucent  olive  skin. 
[26] 


ELISE 

Zephyr  made  no  direct  reply  to  her  challenge. 

"  Why  aren't  you  helping  Madame  at  the  Blue 
Goose?" 

"  Because  I've  struck,  that's  why."  There  was  a 
defiant  toss  of  the  head,  a  compressed  frown  on  the 
arching  brows.  Like  a  cloud  wind-driven  from  across 
the  sun  the  frown  disappeared ;  a  light  laugh  rippled 
from  between  parted  lips.  "  Daddy  was  mad,  awfully 
mad.  You  ought  to  have  seen  him."  The  flowers  fell 
from  her  hands  as  she  threw  herself  into  Pierre's  at 
titude.  "  '  Meenx,'  "  she  mimicked,  "  *  you  mek  to 
defy  me  in  my  own  house?  Me?  Do  I  not  have 
plenty  ze  troub',  but  you  mus'  mek  ze  more?  Hein? 
Ansaire ! '  And  so  I  did.  So !  "  She  threw  her  head 
forward,  puckered  her  lips,  thrusting  out  the  tip  of 
her  tongue  at  the  appreciative  Zephyr.  "  Oh,  it's 
lots  of  fun  to  get  daddy  mad.  '  Vaire  is  my  whip, 
my  dog  whip?  I  beat  you.  I  chastise  you,  meenx ! ' 
The  girl  stooped  to  pick  up  her  scattered  flowers. 
"  Only  it  frightens  poor  mammy  so.  Mammy  never 
talks  back  only  when  daddy  goes  for  me.  I'd  just 
like  to  see  him  when  he  comes  down  this  morning  and 
finds  me  gone.  It  would  be  lots  of  fun.  Only,  if  I 
was  there,  I  couldn't  be  here,  and  it's  just  glorious 
here,  isn't  it?  What's  the  trouble,  Zephyr?  You 
haven't  said  a  word  to  me  all  this  time." 

"  When  your  blessed  little  tongue  gets  tired  per 
haps  I'll  start  in.     There's  no  more  telling  when  that 
[27] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

will   be   than   what   I'll   say,    supposing   I   get    the 
chance." 

"  Oh,  I  knew  there  was  something  I  wanted  espe 
cially  to  see  you  about."  The  face  grew  cloudy. 
"  What  do  you  think  ?  You  know  I  was  sixteen  my 
last  birthday,  just  a  week  ago?"  She  paused  and 
looked  at  Zephyr  interrogatively.  "  I  want  to 
know  where  you  are  all  the  time  now.  It's  aw 
fully  important.  I  may  want  to  elope  with  you 
at  a  moment's  notice !  "  She  looked  impressively  at 
Zephyr. 

Zephyr's  jaw  dropped. 

"  What  the  mischief " 

Elise  interrupted: 

"  No,  wait ;  I'm  not  through.  Daddy  got  very 
playful  that  day,  chucked  my  chin,  and  called  me  ma 
chere  enfant.  That  always  means  mischief.  '  Elise 
bin  seexten  to-day,  heh?  Bimeby  she  tink  to  liv' 
her  hoi'  daddy  and  her  hoi'  mammy  and  bin  gone 
hoff  wiz  anodder  feller,  hem?  '  Then  he  made  an 
other  dab  at  my  chin.  I  knew  what  he  meant."  She 
again  assumed  Pierre's  position.  "  '  What  you  say, 
ma  cherie?  I  pick  you  hout  one  nice  man !  One  ver' 
nice  man!  Hein?  M'sieu  Mo-reeson.  A  ver'  nice 
man.  He  ben  took  good  care  ma  cherie!  ' 

Zephyr  was  betrayed  into  a  startled  motion.  Elise 
was  watching  him  with  narrowed  eyes.  There  was  a 
gleam  of  satisfaction. 

[28] 


ELISE 

"That's  all  right,  Zephyr.  That's  just  what  I 
did,  only  I  did  more.  I  told  daddy  I'd  just  like 
M'sieu  Mo-reeson  to  say  marry  to  me !  I  told  daddy 
that  I'd  take  the  smirk  out  of  M'sieu  Mo-reeson's 
face  and  those  pretty  curls  out  of  M'sieu  Mo-reeson's 
head  if  he  dared  look  marry  at  me.  Only,"  she 
went  on,  "  I'm  a  little  girl,  after  all,  and  I  thought 
the  easiest  way  would  be  to  elope  with  you.  I  would 
like  to  see  M'sieu  Mo-reeson  try  to  take  me  away  from 
a  big,  strong  man  like  you."  There  was  an  expres 
sion  of  intense  scorn  on  her  face  that  bared  the  even 
teeth. 

Zephyr  was  not  conscious  of  Elise.  There  was  a 
hard,  set  look  on  his  face.  Elise  noted  it.  She  tossed 
her  head  airily. 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  look  so  terribly  distressed.  You 
needn't,  if  you  don't  want  to.  I  dare  say  that  the 
superintendent  at  the  mill  would  jump  at  the  chance. 
I  think  I  shall  ask  him,  anyway."  Her  manner 
changed.  "  Why  do  they  always  call  him  the  old 
man?  He  is  not  such  a  very  old  man." 

"  They'd  call  a  baby  *  the  old  man  '  if  he  was  super 
intendent.  Do  they  say  much  about  him?  "  Zephyr 
asked,  meditatively. 

"  Oh  yes,  lots.     M'sier  Mo-reeson  " — she  made  a 

wry  face  at  the  name — "  is  always  talking  about  that 

minion  of  capitalistic  oppression  that's  sucking  the 

life-blood  of  the  serfs  of  toil.     Daddy  hates  the  old 

[29] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

man.    He's  afraid  of  him.    Daddy  always  hates  any 
one  he's  afraid  of,  except  me." 

Zephyr  grunted  absently. 

"  That's  so."  Elise  spoke  emphatically.  "  That's 
why  I'm  here  to-day.  I  told  daddy  that  if  I  was  old 
enough  to  get  married  I  was  old  enough  to  do  as  I 
liked." 

In  spite  of  his  languid  appearance  Zephyr  was 
very  acute.  He  was  getting  a  great  deal  that  needed 
careful  consideration.  He  was  intensely  interested, 
and  he  wanted  to  hear  more.  He  half  hesitated,  then 
decided  that  the  end  justified  the  means. 

"  What  makes  you  think  that  Pierre  hates  the  old 
man?  "  he  ventured,  without  changing  countenance. 

"  Oh,  lots  of  things.  He  tells  Luna  and  M'sieu 
Mo-reeson  " — another  wry  face — "  to  '  look  hout.' 
He  talks  to  the  men,  tells  them  that  the  '  hoi'  man  ees 
sleek,  ver'  sleek,  look  hout,  da's  hall,  an'  go  slow,'  and 
a  lot  of  things.  I'm  awfully  hungry,  Zephyr,  and  I 
don't  want  to  go  down  for  breakfast.  Haven't  you 
got  something  good  in  your  pack?  It  looks  awfully 
good."  She  prodded  the  pack  with  inquisitive  fingers. 

Zephyr  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  It  will  be  better  when  I've  cooked  it.  You'll  eat 
a  breakfast  after  my  cooking  ?  " 

Elise  clapped  her  hands. 

"  That  will  be  fine.    I'll  just  sit  here  and  boss  you. 
If  you're  good,  and  you  are,  you  know,  I'll  tell  you 
[30] 


ELISE 

some  more  about  M'sieu.  Suppose  we  just  call  him 
M'sieu,  just  you  and  me.  That'll  be  our  secret." 

Zephyr  gathered  dry  sticks  and  started  a  fire.  He 
opened  his  pack,  cut  off  some  slices  of  bacon,  and,  im 
paling  them  on  green  twigs,  hung  them  before  the 
fire.  A  pinch  of  salt  and  baking  powder  in  a  handful 
of  flour  was  mixed  into  a  stiff  paste,  stirred  into  the 
frying-pan,  which  was  propped  up  in  front  of  the 
fire.  He  took  some  cups  from  his  pack,  and,  filling 
them  with  water,  put  them  on  the  glowing  coals. 

Elise  kept  up  a  rattling  chatter  through  it  all. 

"  Oh,  I  almost  forgot.  Daddy  says  M'sieu  is  go 
ing  to  be  a  great  man,  a  great  labour  leader.  That's 
what  M'sieu  says  himself — that  he  will  lead  benighted 
labour  from  the  galling  chains  of  slavery  into  the 
glorious  light  of  freedom's  day."  Elise  waved  her 
arms  and  rolled  her  eyes.  Then  she  stopped,  laugh 
ing.  "  It's  awfully  funny.  I  hear  it  all  when  I  sit 
at  the  desk.  You  know  there's  only  thin  boards  be 
tween  my  desk  and  daddy's  private  room,  and  I  can't 
help  but  hear.  That  coffee  and  bacon  smell  good, 
and  what  a  lovely  bannock!  Aren't  you  almost 
ready?  It's  as  nice  as  when  we  were  on  the  ranch, 
and  you  used  to  carry  me  round  on  your  back. 
That  was  an  awful  long  time  ago,  though,  wasn't 
it?" 

Zephyr  only  grunted  in  reply.  He  pursed  his  lips 
for  a  meditative  whistle,  thought  better  of  it,  took 
[31] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

the  frying-pan  from  its  prop,  and  sounded  the  brown 
ing  bannock  with  his  fingers. 

For  the  babbling  streams  of  youth 
Grow  to  silent  pools  of  truth 
When  they  find  a  thirsty  hollow 
On  their  way. 

He  spoke  dreamily. 

"  What  are  you  talking  about?  "  Elise  broke  in. 

"  Oh,  nothing  in  particular.  I  was  just  thinking 
— might  have  been  thinking  out  loud." 

"  That's  you,  every  time,  Zephyr.  You  think  with 
out  talking,  and  I  talk  without  thinking.  It's  lots 
more  fun.  Do  you  think  I  will  ever  grow  into  a  dear, 
sober  old  thing  like  you?  Just  tell  me  that."  She 
stooped  down,  taking  Zephyr's  face  in  both  her 
hands  and  turned  it  up  to  her  own. 

Zephyr  looked  musingly  up  into  the  laughing  eyes, 
and  took  her  hands  into  his. 

"  Not  for  the  same  reasons,  I  guess,  not  if  I  can 
help  it,"  he  added,  half  to  himself.  "  Now,  if  you'll 
be  seated,  I'll  serve  breakfast."  He  dropped  the 
hands  and  pointed  to  a  boulder. 

Elise  ate  the  plain  fare  with  the  eager  appetite  of 
youth  and  health.  From  far  down  the  gulch  the 
muffled  roar  of  the  stamps  rose  and  fell  on  the  light 
airs  that  drifted  up  and  down.  Through  it  all  was 
the  soft  swish  of  the  falling  spray,  the  sharp  blip! 
[32] 


ELISE 

blip!  as  points  of  light,  gathered  from  dripping 
boughs,  grew  to  sparkling  gems,  then,  losing  their 
hold,  fell  into  little  pools  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff. 
High  above  the  straggling  town  the  great  cables  of 
the  tram  floated  in  the  air  like  dusty  webs,  and  up 
and  down  these  webs,  like  black  spiders,  darted  the 
buckets  that  carried  the  ore  from  mine  to  mill,  then 
disappeared  in  the  roaring  mill,  and  dumping  their 
loads  of  ore  shot  up  again  into  sight,  and,  growing 
in  size,  swept  on  toward  the  cliff  and  passed  out  of 
sight  over  the  falls  above. 

Across  the  narrow  gulch  a  precipice  sheered  up 
eight  hundred  feet,  a  hard  green  crown  of  stunted 
spruces  on  its  retreating  brow,  above  the  crown  a 
stretch  of  soft  green  meadow  steeply  barred  with 
greener  willows,  above  the  meadow  jagged  spires  of 
blackened  lava,  thrust  up  from  drifts  of  shining  snow : 
a  triple  tiara  crowning  this  silent  priest  of  the  moun 
tains. 

To  the  east  the  long  brown  slide  was  marked  with 
clifflets  mottled  as  was  Joseph's  coat  of  many  colours, 
with  every  shade  of  red  and  yellow  that  rusting  flecks 
of  iron  minerals  could  give,  brightened  here  and  there 
with  clustered  flowers  which  marked  a  seeping  spring, 
up  and  up,  broken  at  last  by  a  jagged  line  of  purple 
that  lay  softly  against  the  clear  blue  of  the  arching 
sky. 

To  the  west  the  mountains  parted  and  the  vision 
[88] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

dropped  to  miles  of  browning  mesa,  flecked  with 
ranchers'  squares  of  irrigated  green.  Still  farther  a 
misty  haze  of  distant  mountains  rose,  with  the  great 
soft  bell  of  the  curving  sky  hovering  over  all. 

Zephyr  ate  in  a  silence  which  Elise  did  not  care 
to  break.  Her  restless  eyes  glanced  from  Zephyr  to 
the  mountains,  fell  with  an  eager  caress  on  the  flowers 
that  almost  hid  the  brook,  looked  out  to  the  distant 
mesa,  and  last  of  all  shot  defiance  at  the  blazing  win 
dows  of  the  Blue  Goose  that  were  hurtling  back  the 
fiery  darts  of  the  attacking  sun. 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  brushing  the  crumbs  from 
her  clothes. 

"  Much  obliged,  Mr.  Zephyr,  for  your  entertain 
ment."  She  swept  him  a  low  courtesy.  "  I  told  you 
I  was  out  for  a  lark  to-day.  Now  you  can  wash  the 
dishes." 

Zephyr  had  also  risen.  He  gave  no  heed  to  her 
playful  attitude. 

"  I  want  you  to  pay  especial  attention,  Elise." 

"  Oh,  gracious !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Now  I'm  in 
for  it."  She  straightened  her  face,  but  she  could  not 
control  the  mischievous  sparkle  of  her  eyes. 

There  was  little  of  meditation  but  much  decision 
in  Zephyr's  words. 

"  Don't  let  Pierre  tease  you,  persuade  you, 
frighten  you,  or  bulldoze  you  into  marrying  that 
Morrison.  Do  you  hear?  Get  away.  Run  away." 
[34] 


ELISE 

"  Or  elope,"  interrupted  Elise.  "  Don't  skip 
that." 

"  Go  to  Bennie,  the  old  man,  or  to  anyone,  if  you 
can't  find  me." 

"  What  a  speech,  Zephyr !  Did  any  of  it  get 
away?  " 

Zephyr  was  too  much  in  earnest  even  to  smile. 

"  Remember  what  I  say." 

"  You  put  in  an  awful  lot  of  hard  words.  But 
then,  I  don't  need  to  remember.  I  may  change  my 
mind.  Maybe  there'd  be  a  whole  lot  of  fun  after  all 
in  marrying  M'sieu.  I'd  just  like  to  show  him  that 
he  can't  scare  me  the  way  daddy  does  mammy.  It 
would  be  worth  a  whole  box  of  chips.  On  the  whole 
I  think  I'll  take  daddy's  advice.  Bye-bye,  Zephyr." 
She  again  picked  up  her  scattered  flowers  and  went 
dancing  and  skipping  down  the  trail.  At  the  turn 
she  paused  for  an  instant,  blew  Zephyr  a  saucy  kiss 
from  the  tips  of  her  fingers,  then  passed  out  of  sight. 

A  voice  floated  back  to  the  quiet  figure  by  the  fire. 

"  Don't  feel  too  bad,  Zephyr.  I'll  probably  change 
my  mind  again." 


[35] 


CHAPTER    IV 

The  Watched  Pot  Begins  to  Boil 

OF  all  classes  of  people  under  the  sun,  the  so- 
called  labouring  man  has  best  cause  to  pray 
for  deliverance  from  his  friends.  His  friends 
are,  or  rather  were,  of  three  classes.  The  first,  ardent 
but  wingless  angels  of  mercy,  who  fail  to  comprehend 
the  fact  that  the  unlovely  lot  of  their  would-be  wards 
is  the  result  of  conditions  imposed  more  largely  from 
within  than  from  without;  the  second,  those  who  care 
neither  for  lots  nor  conditions,  regarding  the  la 
bourer  as  a  senseless  tool  with  which  to  hew  out  his 
own  designs;  the  third,  those  who  adroitly  knock  to 
gether  the  heads  of  the  labourer  and  his  employer 
and  impartially  pick  the  pockets  of  each  in  the  gen 
eral  melee  which  is  bound  to  follow. 

The  past  were  is  designedly  contrasted  with  the 
present  are,  for  it  is  a  fact  that  conditions  all  around 
are  changing  for  the  better;  slowly,  perhaps,  but 
nevertheless  surely. 

The  philanthropic  friend  of  the  labourer  is  learn 
ing  to  develop  balancing  tail-feathers  of  judgment 
wherewith  to  direct  the  flights  of  wings  of  mercy. 
[36] 


THE    WATCHED     POT 

The  employer  is  beginning  to  realise  the  beneficial 
results  of  mutual  understanding  and  of  considerate 
co-operation,  and  the  industrious  fomenter  of  strife 
is  learning  that  bones  with  richer  marrow  may  be 
more  safely  cracked  by  sensible  adjustment  than  with 
grievous  clubs  wielded  over  broken  heads. 

Even  so,  the  millennium  is  yet  far  away,  and  now, 
as  in  the  past,  the  path  that  leads  to  it  is  uphill  and 
dim,  and  is  beset  with  many  obstacles.  There  are  no 
short  cuts  to  the  summit.  In  spite  of  pessimistic 
clamours  that  the  rich  are  growing  richer  and  the 
poor  poorer,  frothy  yowls  for  free  and  unlimited 
coinage  at  sixteen  to  one,  or  for  fiat  paper  at  infinity 
to  nothing,  the  fact  remains  that,  whereas  kings  for 
merly  used  signets  for  the  want  of  knowledge  to  write 
their  names,  licked  their  greasy  fingers  for  lack  of 
knives  and  forks,  and  starved  in  Ireland  with  plenty 
in  France,  the  poorest  to-day  can,  if  they  will,  indite 
readable  words  on  well-sized  paper,  do  things  in 
higher  mathematics,  and  avoid  the  thankless  task  of 
dividing  eight  into  seven  and  looking  for  the  re 
mainder. 

Potatoes  are  worth  fifty  cents  a  bushel.  Any  yokel 
can  dig  a  hole  in  the  ground  and  plant  the  seed  and 
in  due  time  gather  the  ripened  tubers.  The  engineer 
who  drives  his  engine  at  sixty  miles  an  hour,  flashing 
bv  warning  semaphores,  rolling  among  coloured 
lights,  clattering  over  frogs  and  switches,  is  no  yokel. 
[37] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

Therefore,  because  of  this  fact,  with  the  compensa 
tion  of  one  day  he  can,  if  he  so  elects,  buy  many  po 
tatoes,  or  employ  many  yokels. 

Had  Sir  Isaac  Newton  devoted  to  the  raising  of 
potatoes  the  energy  which  he  gave  to  astronomy,  he 
might  have  raised  larger  potatoes  and  more  to  the 
hill  than  his  yokel  neighbour.  But,  his  conditions  hav 
ing  been  potatoes,  his  reward  would  have  been  po 
tatoes,  instead  of  the  deathless  glory  of  the  discov 
ery  and  enunciation  of  the  law  of  gravity.  The 
problem  is  very  simple  after  all.  The  world  has  had 
a  useless  deal  of  trouble  because  no  one  has  ever  be 
fore  taken  the  trouble  to  state  the  problem  and  to 
elaborate  it.  It  is  just  as  simple  as  is  the  obvious 
fact  that  x  plus  y  equals  a. 

There  is  a  possibility,  however,  that  we  have  been 
going  too  fast,  and  have  consequently  overlooked  a 
few  items  of  importance.  We  forgot  for  the  moment, 
as  often  happens,  that  the  factors  in  the  problem  are 
not  homogeneous  digits  with  fixed  values,  but  com 
plex  personalities  with  decided  opinions  of  their  own 
as  to  their  individual  and  relative  importance,  as  well 
as  pugnacious  tendencies  for  compelling  an  accept 
ance  of  their  assumptions  by  equally  pugnacious 
factors  which  claim  a  differential  valuation  in  their 
own  favour.  This  consideration  presents  a  somewhat 
different  and  more  difficult  phase  of  the  problem.  It 
really  compels  us  to  defer  attempts  at  final  solution, 
[38] 


THE    WATCHED    POT 

for  the  time  being,  at  least;  to  make  the  best  adjust 
ment  possible  under  present  conditions,  putting  off 
to  the  future  the  final  application,  much  on  the  same 
principle  that  communities  bond  their  present  public 
possessions  for  their  own  good  and  complacently  be 
stow  upon  posterity  the  obligation  of  settling  the 
bills.  Considered  in  this  light,  the  end  of  the  strug 
gle  between  capital  and  labour  is  not  yet.  Each  is 
striving  for  the  sole  possession  and  control  of  things 
which  belong  to  neither  alone.  Each  looks  upon  the 
other  not  as  a  co-labourer  but  as  a  rival,  instead  of 
making  intelligent  and  united  effort  for  an  object 
unattainable  by  either  alone.  If  capital  would  smoke 
this  in  his  cigar  and  labour  the  same  in  his  pipe,  the 
soothing  effects  might  tend  to  more  amicable  and  ef 
fective  use  of  what  is  now  dissipated  energy. 

However,  universal  panaceas  are  not  to  be  hoped 
for.  The  mailed  fist  puts  irritating  chips  upon 
swaggering  shoulders,  and  the  unresentful  turning 
of  smitten  cheeks  is  conducive  to  a  thrifty  growth  of 
gelatinous  nincompoops. 

The  preceding  status  quo  existed  in  general  at  the 
Rainbow  mines  and  mill,  besides  having  a  few  indi 
vidual  characteristics  peculiarly  their  own.  Miners 
and  millmen,  for  the  most  part  recent  importations 
from  all  countries  of  Europe,  had  come  from  the 
realms  of  oppression  to  the  land  of  the  free  with  very 
exaggerated  notions  of  what  freedom  really  was. 
[39] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

The  dominant  expression  of  this  idea  was  that  every 
one  could  do  as  he  pleased,  and  that  if  the  other  fellow 
didn't  like  it,  he,  the  other  fellow,  could  get  out.  The 
often  enunciating  of  abstract  principles  led  to  their 
liberal  application  to  concrete  facts.  In  this  applica 
tion  they  had  able  counsel  in  the  ambitious  Morrison. 

"  Who  opened  these  mountain  wilds  ?  "  .  Morrison 
was  wont  to  inquire,  not  for  information,  but  for  em 
phasis.  "  Who  discovered,  amidst  toils  and  dangers 
and  deprivations  and  snowslides,  these  rich  mines  of 
gold  and  silver?  Who  made  them  accessible  by 
waggon  trail  and  railroads  and  burros?  Who  but 
the  honest  sons  of  honest  toil?  Who,  when  these  la 
bours  are  accomplished,  lolls  in  the  luxurious  lap  of 
the  voluptuous  East,  reaping  the  sweat  of  your 
brows,  gathering  in  the  harvest  of  hands  toiling  for 
three  dollars  a  day  or  less?  Who,  but  the  purse- 
proud  plutocrat  who  sits  on  his  cushioned  chair  in 
Wall  Street,  sending  out  his  ruthless  minions  to  rob 
the  labourer  of  his  toil  and  to  express  his  hard-won 
gold  to  the  stanchless  maw  of  the  ghoulish  East. 
Rise,  noble  sons  of  toil,  rise!  Stretch  forth  your 
horny  hands  and  gather  in  your  own!  Raise  high 
upon  these  mountain-peaks  the  banner  of  freedom's 
hope  before  despairing  eyes  raised  from  the  greed- 
sodden  plains  of  the  effete  East !  " 

Whereat  the  sons  of  toil  would  cheer  and  then  pro 
ceed  to  stretch  forth  hands  to  unripened  fruits  with 
[40] 


THE    WATCHED     POT 

such  indiscriminating  activity  that  both  mine  and 
mill  ceased  to  yield  expenses  to  the  eastern  plutocrat, 
and  even  the  revenues  of  the  Blue  Goose  were  seriously 
impaired,  to  the  great  distress  of  Pierre. 

These  rhodomontades  of  Morrison  had  grains  of 
plausible  truth  as  nuclei.  The  workmen  never,  or 
rarely,  came  in  personal  contact  with  their  real  em 
ployers.  Their  employers  were  in  their  minds  men 
who  reaped  where  others  had  sown,  who  gathered 
where  they  had  not  strewn.  The  labourer  gave  no 
heed  to  costly  equipment  which  made  mines  possible, 
or  at  best  weighed  them  but  lightly  against  the  daily 
toil  of  monotonous  lives.  They  saw  tons  of  hard-won 
ore  slide  down  the  long  cables,  crash  through  the 
pounding  stamps,  saw  the  gold  gather  on  the  plates, 
saw  it  retorted,  and  the  shining  bars  shipped  East. 
Against  this  gold  of  unknown  value,  and  great  be 
cause  unknown,  they  balanced  their  daily  wage,  that 
looked  pitifully  small. 

The  yield  of  their  aggregate  labour  in  foul-aired 
stopes  and  roaring  mill  they  could  see  in  one  massive 
lump.  They  could  not  see  the  aggregate  of  little 
bites  that  reduced  the  imposing  mass  to  a  tiny  dribble 
which  sometimes,  but  not  always,  fell  into  the  treas 
ury  of  the  company.  They  would  not  believe,  even 
if  they  saw. 

For  these  reasons,  great  is  the  glory  of  the  leaders 
of  labour  who  are  rising  to-day,  holding  restraining 

" 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

hands  on  turbulent  ignorance  and  taking  wise  coun 
sel  with  equally  glorious  leaders  who  are  striving  to 
enforce  the  truth  that  all  gain  over  just  compensa 
tion  is  but  a  sacred  trust  for  the  benefit  of  mankind. 
These  things  are  coming  to  be  so  to-day.  But  so 
long  as  sons  of  wealth  are  unmindful  of  their  obliga 
tions,  and  so  long  as  ignorance  breathes  forth  noxious 
vapours  to  poison  its  victims,  so  long  will  there  be 
battles  to  be  fought  and  victories  to  be  won. 

Thus  was  the  way  made  ready  for  the  feet  of  one 
of  the  labourer's  mistaken  friends.  Morrison  was 
wily,  if  not  wise.  He  distinguished  between  oratory 
and  logic.  He  kindled  the  flames  of  indignation  and 
resentment  with  the  one  and  fed  them  with  the  other. 
But  in  the  performance  of  each  duty  he  never  lost 
sight  of  himself. 

Under  the  slack  management  of  previous  adminis 
trations,  the  conditions  of  the  Rainbow  mine  and  mill 
had  rapidly  deteriorated.  In  the  mine  a  hundred 
sticks  of  powder  were  used  or  wasted  where  one  would 
have  sufficed.  Hundreds  of  feet  of  fuse,  hundreds  of 
detonators,  and  pounds  of  candles  were  thrown  away. 
Men  would  climb  high  in  the  mine  to  their  work  only 
to  return  later  for  some  tool  needed,  or  because  their 
supplies  had  not  lasted  through  their  shift.  If  near 
the  close  of  hours,  they  would  sit  and  gossip  with  their 
fellow-workmen.  Drills  and  hammers  would  be  buried 
in  the  stope,  or  thrown  over  the  dump.  Rock  would 
[42] 


THE    WATCHED     POT 

be  broken  down  with  the  ore,  and  the  mixed  mass, 
half  ore  and  half  rock,  would  be  divided  impartially 
and  sent,  one-half  to  the  dump  and  one-half  to  the 
mill. 

At  the  mill  was  the  same  shiftless  state  of  affairs. 
Tools  once  used  were  left  to  be  hunted  for  the  next 
time  they  were  wanted.  On  the  night  shift  the  men 
slept  at  their  posts  or  deserted  them  for  the  hilarious 
attractions  of  the  Blue  Goose.  The  result  was  that 
the  stamps,  unfed,  having  no  rock  to  crush,  pounded 
steel  on  steel,  so  that  stamps  were  broken,  bossheads 
split,  or  a  clogged  screen  would  burst,  leaving  the 
half-broken  ore  to  flow  over  the  plates  and  into  the 
wash-sluices  with  none  of  its  value  extracted. 

Among  the  evils  that  followed  in  the  train  of  slack 
and  ignorant  management  not  the  least  was  the  effect 
upon  the  men.  If  a  rich  pocket  of  ore  was  struck 
the  men  stole  it  all.  They  argued  that  it  was  theirs, 
because  they  found  it.  The  company  would  never 
miss  it;  the  company  was  making  enough,  anyway, 
and,  besides,  the  superintendent  never  knew  when  a 
pocket  was  opened,  and  never  told  them  that  it  was 
not  theirs.  These  pilfered  pockets  were  always 
emptied  at  the  Blue  Goose.  On  these  occasions  the 
underground  furnace  glowed  ruddily,  and  Pierre 
would  stow  the  pilfered  gold  among  other  pilfered 
ingots,  and  would  in  due  time  emerge  from  his  sub 
terranean  retreat  in  such  cheerful  temper  that  he  had 
[43] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

no  heart  to  browbeat  the  scared-looking  Madame. 
Whereupon  Madame  would  be  divided  in  her  honest 
soul  between  horror  at  Pierre's  wrongdoing  and 
thankfulness  for  a  temporary  reprieve  from  his  biting 
tongue. 

The  miners  stole  supplies  of  all  kinds  and  sold 
them  or  gave  them  to  their  friends.  Enterprising 
prospectors,  short  of  funds,  as  is  usually  the  case, 
"  got  a  job  at  the  mine,"  then,  having  stocked  up, 
would  call  for  their  time  and  go  forth  to  hunt  a  mine 
of  their  own. 

The  men  could  hardly  be  blamed  for  these  pilfer- 
ings.  A  slack  land-owner  who  makes  no  protest 
against  the  use  of  his  premises  as  a  public  highway, 
in  time  not  only  loses  his  property  but  his  right  to 
protest  as  well. 

So  it  happened  at  the  Rainbow  mine  and  mill  that, 
as  no  locks  were  placed  on  magazines,  as  the  supply- 
rooms  were  open  to  all,  and  as  no  protest  was  made 
against  the  men  helping  themselves,  the  men  came  to 
feel  that  they  were  taking  only  what  belonged  to 
them,  whatever  use  was  made  of  the  appropriated 
supplies. 

These  were  some  of  the  more  obvious  evils  which 
Firmstone  set  about  remedying.  Magazines  and 
supply-rooms  were  locked  and  supplies  were  issued  on 
order.  Workmen  ceased  wandering  aimlessly  about 
while  on  shift.  Rock  and  ore  were  broken  separately, 
[44] 


THE    WATCHED     POT 

and  if  an  undue  proportion  of  rock  was  delivered  at 
the  mill  it  was  immediately  known  at  the  mine  and  in 
unmistakable  terms. 

The  effect  of  these  changes  on  the  men  was  vari 
ous.  Some  took  an  honest  pride  in  working  under  a 
man  who  knew  his  business.  More  chafed  and  fumed 
under  unwonted  restrictions.  These  were  artfully 
nursed  by  the  wily  Morrison,  with  the  result  that  a 
dangerous  friction  was  developing  between  the  better 
disposed  men  and  the  restless  growlers.  This  feel 
ing  was  also  diligently  stimulated  by  Morrison. 

"  Go  easy,"  was  his  caution ;  "  but  warm  it  up  for 
them." 

"  Warm  it  up  for  them !  "  indignantly  protested 
one  disciple.  "  Them  fellers  is  the  old  man's  pets." 

Morrison  snorted. 

"  Pets,  is  it  ?  Pets  be  damned !  It's  only  a  matter 
of  time  when  the  old  man  will  be  dancing  on  a  hot 
stove,  if  you've  got  any  sand  in  your  crops.  The 
foreman's  more  than  half  with  you  now.  Get  the 
union  organised,  and  we'll  run  out  the  pets  and  the 
old  man  too.  You'll  never  get  your  rights  till  you're 
organised." 

At  the  mill,  Firmstone's  nocturnal  visits  at  any 
unexpected  hour  made  napping  a  precarious  busi 
ness  and  visits  to  the  Blue  Goose  not  to  be  thought 
of. 

The  results  of  Firmstone's  vigilance  showed  heavily 
[45] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

in  reduced  expenses  and  in  increased  efficiency  of  la 
bour;  but  these  items  were  only  negative.  The  fact 
remained  that  the  yield  of  the  mill  in  bullion  was  but 
slightly  increased  and  still  subject  to  extreme  varia 
tions.  The  conclusion  was  inevitable  that  the  mill 
was  being  systematically  plundered.  Firmstone  knew 
that  there  must  be  collusion,  not  only  among  the 
workmen,  but  among  outsiders  as  well.  This  was  an 
obvious  fact,  but  the  means  to  circumvent  it  were  not 
so  obvious.  He  knew  that  there  were  workmen  in  the 
mill  who  would  not  steal  a  penny,  but  he  also  knew 
that  these  same  men  would  preserve  a  sullen  silence 
with  regard  to  the  peculations  of  their  less  scrupulous 
fellows.  It  was  but  the  grown-up  sense  of  honour, 
that  will  cause  a  manly  schoolboy  to  be  larruped  to 
the  bone  before  he  will  tell  about  his  errant  and  cow 
ardly  fellow. 

Firmstone  was  well  aware  of  the  simmering  discon 
tent  which  his  rigid  discipline  was  arousing.  He  re 
gretted  it,  but  he  was  hopeful  that  the  better  element 
among  the  men  would  yet  gain  the  ascendant. 

"  He's  square,"  remarked  one  of  his  defenders. 
"  There  was  a  mistake  in  my  time,  last  payroll,  and 
he  looked  over  the  time  himself."  "  That's  so,"  in 
answer  to  one  objector.  "  I  was  in  the  office  and  saw 
him." 

"  You  bet  he's  square,"  broke  in  another.  "  Didn't 
I  get  a  bad  pair  of  boots  out  of  the  commissary,  and 
[46] 


THE    WATCHED     POT 

didn't  he  give  me  another  pair  in  their  place?   That's 
what." 

If  Morrison  and  Pierre  had  not  been  in  active  evi 
dence  Firmstone  would  have  won  the  day  without  a 
fight. 


[47] 


CHAPTER    V 

Bennie  Opens  the  Pot  and  Firmstone  Comes  in 

FIRMSTONE  was  late  to  breakfast  the  day  of 
Zephyr's  departure,  and  Bennie  was  doing  his 
best  to  restrain  his  impatience.  When  at  last 
the  late  breakfaster  appeared,  Bennie's  manner  was 
noticeably  different  from  the  ordinary.  He  was  a 
stanch  defender  of  the  rights  of  the  American  citi 
zen,  an  uncompromising  opponent  of  companies  and 
trusts,  a  fearless  and  aggressive  exponent  of  his  own 
views;  but  withal  a  sincere  admirer  and  loyal  friend 
of  Firmstone.  Bennie  knew  that  in  his  hands  were 
very  strong  cards,  and  he  was  casting  about  in  his 
mind  for  the  most  effective  mode  of  playing  them. 

"  Good  morning,  Bennie,"  Firmstone  called  out, 
on  entering  the  dining-room. 

Bennie  returned  the  greeting  with  a  silent  nod. 
Firmstone  glanced  at  the  clock. 

"  It  is  pretty  late  for  good  morning  and  break 
fast,  that's  a  fact." 

Bennie  disappeared  in  the  kitchen.  He  returned 
and  placed  Firmstone's  breakfast  before  him. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Bennie?  "  Firmstone  thought 
[48] 


BENNIE     OPENS     THE    POT 

he  knew,  but  events  were  soon  to  show  him  his  mis 
take. 

"  Matter  enough,  Mr.  Firmstone,  as  you'll  soon 
find."  Bennie  was  getting  alarming. 

Firmstone  ate  in  silence.  Bennie  watched  with  im 
passive  dignity. 

"  Is  your  breakfast  all  right  ?  "  he  finally  asked, 
unbendingly. 

"  All  right,  Bennie.  Better  than  I  deserve,  pounc 
ing  on  you  at  this  hour."  He  again  looked  up  at  the 
clock. 

"  Come  when  you  like,  late  or  early,  you'll  get  the 
best  I  can  give  you."  Bennie  was  still  rigid. 

Firmstone  was  growing  more  puzzled.  Bennie 
judged  it  time  to  support  his  opening. 

"  I'm  an  outspoken  man,  Mr.  Firmstone,  as  be 
comes  an  American  citizen.  If  I  take  an  honest  dol 
lar,  I'll  give  an  honest  return." 

"  No  one  doubts  that,  Bennie."  Firmstone  leaned 
back  in  his  chair.  He  was  going  to  see  it  out. 

Bennie's  support  was  rapidly  advancing. 

"  You  know,  Mr.  Firmstone,  that  I  have  my  opin 
ions  and  speak  my  mind  about  the  oppression  of  the 
poor  by  the  rich.  I  left  my  home  in  the  East  to  come 
out  here  where  it  was  less  crowded  and  where  there 
was  more  freedom.  It's  only  change  about,  I  find. 
In  the  East  the  rich  were  mostly  Americans  who  op 
pressed  the  dagoes,  being  for  their  own  good;  but 
[49] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

here  it's  the  other  way.  Here's  Mike  the  Finn,  and 
Jansen  the  Swede,  and  Hansen  the  Dane,  and  Giu 
seppe  the  dago,  and  Pat  the  Irishman  the  boss  of  the 
whole  dirty  gang.  Before  God  I  take  shame  to  my 
self  for  being  an  honest  man  and  American  born, 
and  having  this  thieving  gang  to  tell  me  how  long  I 
can  work,  and  where  I  can  buy,  with  a  swat  in  the 
jaw  and  a  knife  in  my  back  for  daring  to  say  my 
soul  is  my  own  and  sticking  to  it  against  orders  from 
the  union." 

"Thunder  and  Mars,  Bennie!  What's  the  mat 
ter?  " 

Bennie's  reserves  came  up  with  a  rush.  He  thrust 
open  the  door  of  his  room  and  jerked  a  blanket  from 
the  sacks  which  Zephyr  had  left  there. 

Firmstone  gave  a  low  whistle  of  surprise. 

"  There's  matter  for  you,  Mr.  Firmstone." 

"Where  under  the  sun  did  you  get  these?" 
Firmstone  had  opened  one  of  the  sacks  and  was  look 
ing  at  the  ore. 

"  I  didn't  get  them.  Zephyr  got  them  and  asked 
me  to  see  that  you  had  them.  There's  a  man  for  you ! 
'Twas  little  white  paint  the  Lord  had  when  he  came 
West,  but  he  put  two  good  coats  of  it  on  Zephyr's 
back." 

Firmstone  made  no  reply  to  Bennie's  eulogy  of 
Zephyr.  He  closed  and  retied  the  opened  sacks. 

"  There's  mighty  interesting  reading  in  these 
sacks,  Bennie." 

[50] 


BENNIE    OPENS     THE    POT 

"  Those  were  Zephyr's  words,  sir." 

"  That  ore  was  taken  from  the  mill  last  night. 
Luna  was  on  shift,  Long  was  sick,  and  Luna  put 
Morrison  in  his  place."  Firmstone  looked  at  Ben- 
nie  inquisitively.  He  was  trying  his  facts  on  the 
cook. 

"  That's  so,  sir,"  remarked  Bennie.  "  But  you'll 
never  make  a  hen  out  of  a  rooster  by  pulling  out  his 
tail-feathers." 

Firmstone  laughed. 

"  Well,  Bennie,  that's  about  the  way  I  sized  it  up 
myself.  Keep  quiet  about  this.  I  want  to  get  these 
sacks  down  to  the  office  some  time  to-day."  He  left 
the  room  and  went  to  the  office. 

Luna  reported  to  the  office  that  night  as  usual  be 
fore  going  on  shift.  Firmstone  gave  a  few  directions, 
and  then  turned  to  his  work. 

Shortly  after  twelve  Luna  was  surprised  at  seeing 
the  superintendent  enter  the  mill. 

"  Cut  off  the  feed  in  the  batteries." 

The  order  was  curt,  and  Luna,  much  bewildered, 
hastened  to  obey. 

Firmstone  followed  him  around  back  of  the  bat 
teries,  where  automatic  machines  dropped  the  ore  un 
der  the  stamps.  Firmstone  waited  until  there  began 
to  come  the  sound  of  dropping  stamps  pounding  on 
the  naked  dies,  then  he  gave  orders  to  hang  up  the 
stamps  and  shut  down  the  mill.  This  was  done.  The 
[51] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

rhythmic  cadence  of  the  falling  stamps  was  broken 
into  irregular  blows  as  one  by  one  the  stamps  were 
propped  up  above  the  revolving  cams,  till  finally  only 
the  hum  of  pulleys  and  the  click  of  belts  were  heard. 
These  sounds  also  ceased  as  the  engine  slowed  and 
finally  stopped. 

"  Shall  I  lay  off  the  men?  "  asked  the  foreman. 

"  No.     Have  them  take  out  the  screens." 

This  also  was  done,  and  then  Firmstone,  accom 
panied  by  Luna,  went  from  battery  to  battery.  They 
first  scraped  out  the  loose  rock,  and  afterward,  with  a 
long  steel  spoon,  took  samples  of  the  crushed  ore  from 
between  the  dies.  The  operation  was  a  long  one ;  but 
at  length  the  last  battery  was  sampled.  Firmstone 
put  the  last  sample  in  a  sack  with  the  others. 

"  Shall  I  carry  the  sack  for  you?  "  asked  Luna. 

"  No.  Start  up  the  mill,  and  then  come  to  the  of 
fice."  Firmstone  turned,  and,  with  the  heavy  sack 
on  his  shoulder,  left  the  mill. 

There  were  a  hundred  stamps  in  the  mill.  The 
stamps  were  divided  into  batteries  of  ten  each.  Each 
battery  was  driven  separately  by  a  belt  from  the  main 
shaft.  There  was  a  man  in  attendance  on  every 
twenty  stamps.  Firmstone  had  taken  samples  from 
each  battery,  and  each  sample  bore  the  number  of  the 
battery.  He  had  taken  especial  care  to  call  this  to 
Luna's  attention. 

The  foreman   saw  to  replacing  the  screens,   and, 
[52] 


BENNIE    OPENS     THE    POT 

when  the  mill  was  again  started,  he  went  to  the  super 
intendent's  office.  He  knew  very  well  that  an  un 
pleasant  time  awaited  him;  but,  like  the  superin 
tendent,  he  had  his  course  of  action  mapped  out.  The 
foreman  was  a  very  wise  man  within  a  restricted 
circle.  He  knew  that  the  battle  was  his,  if  he  fought 
within  its  circumference.  Outside  of  the  circle  he 
did  not  propose  to  be  tempted.  Firmstone  could  not 
force  him  out.  Those  who  could,  would  not  attempt 
it  for  very  obvious  and  personal  reasons.  Luna  was 
aware  that  Firmstone  knew  that  there  was  thieving, 
and  was  morally  certain  as  to  who  were  the  thieves, 
but  lacked  convincing  proof.  This  was  his  protect 
ing  circle.  Firmstone  could  not  force  him  out  of  it. 
Morrison  and  Pierre  knew  not  only  of  the  thieving, 
but  the  thieves.  They  could  force  him  out,  but  they 
would  not.  Luna  was  tranquil. 

Luna  saw  Firmstone  in  the  laboratory  as  he  en 
tered  the  railed  enclosure.  He  opened  the  railing 
gate,  passed  through  the  office,  and  entered  the  labo 
ratory.  Firmstone  glanced  at  the  foreman,  but  he 
met  only  a  stolid  face  with  no  sign  of  confusion. 

"  Pan  these  samples  down." 

Without  a  word  Luna  emptied  the  sacks  into  little 
pans  and  carefully  washed  off  the  crushed  rock,  leav 
ing  the  grains  of  gold  in  the  pans.  Eight  of  the 
pans  showed  rich  in  gold,  the  last  two  hardly  a 
trace. 

[53] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

Firmstone  placed  the  pans  in  order. 

"What  do  you  make  of  that?"  he  asked, 
sharply. 

Luna  shook  his  head. 

"  That's  too  much  for  me." 

"What  batteries  did  these  two  come  from?" 
Firmstone  pointed  to  the  two  plates. 

"  Nine  and  Ten,"  the  foreman  answered,  promptly. 

"  Who  works  on  Nine  and  Ten?  " 

"  Clancy  day  and  Long  night,"  was  the  ready  an 
swer. 

"  Did  Long  work  last  night?  " 

"  No.  He  was  sick.  I  told  you  that,  and  I  asked 
you  if  I  should  put  on  Morrison.  You  didn't  say 
nothing  against  it." 

"  Did  Nine  and  Ten  run  all  night?  " 

"  Except  for  an  hour  or  two,  maybe.  Nine  worked 
a  shoe  loose  and  Ten  burst  a  screen.  That's  likely  to 
happen  any  time.  We  had  to  hang  up  for  that." 

"  You  say  you  can  give  no  explanation  of  this  ?  " 
Firmstone  pointed  to  the  empty  pans. 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Look  this  over."  Firmstone  went  to  his  desk  in 
the  office  and  Luna  followed  him.  He  picked  up  a 
paper  covered  with  figures  marked  "  Mine  Assays, 
May,"  and  handed  it  to  the  foreman. 

Luna  glanced  over  the  sheet,  then  looked  inquir 
ingly  at  Firmstone. 

[54] 


BENNIE    OPENS     THE    POT 

"  Well?  "  he  finally  ventured. 

"What  do  you  make  of  it?  "  Firmstone  asked. 

Luna  turned  to  the  assay  sheet. 

"  The  average  of  two  hundred  assays  taken  twice 
a  week,  twenty-five  assays  each  time,  gives  twenty- 
five  dollars  a  ton  for  the  month  of  May."  Luna  read 
the  summary. 

Firmstone  wrote  the  number  on  a  slip  of  paper, 
then  took  the  sheet  from  the  foreman. 

"  You  understand,  then,  that  the  ore  taken  from 
the  mine  and  sent  to  the  mill  in  May  averaged  twen 
ty-five  dollars  a  ton?  " 

"  Yes,  that's  right."     Luna  was  getting  puzzled. 

"  Very  good.  You're  doing  well.  Now  look  at 
this  sheet."  Firmstone  handed  him  another  paper. 
"  Now  read  the  summary." 

Luna  read  aloud : 

"  Average  loss  in  tailings,  daily  samples,  May,  two 
dollars  and  seventy-five  cents  a  ton." 

"  You  understand  from  this,  do  you  not,  that  the 
gold  recovered  from  the  plates  should  then  be  twen 
ty-two  dollars  and  twenty-five  cents  a  ton  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir."  Luna's  face  was  reddening ;  beads  of 
perspiration  were  oozing  from  his  forehead. 

"  Well,  then,"  pursued  Firmstone,  "  just  look  over 
this  statement.  Read  it  out  loud." 

Luna  took  the  paper  offered  him,  and  began  to 
read. 

[55] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

"  What  do  you  make  out  of  that  ?  "  Firmstone 
was  looking  straight  into  the  foreman's  eyes. 

Luna  tried  his  best  to  return  the  look,  but  his  eyes 
dropped. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  stammered. 

"  Then  I'll  tell  you.  Not  that  I  need  to,  but  I 
want  you  to  understand  that  I  know.  It  means  that 
out  of  every  ton  of  ore  that  was  delivered  to  this  mill 
in  May  thirteen  dollars  and  forty-five  cents  have  been 
stolen." 

Luna  fairly  gasped.  He  was  startled  by  the  state 
ment  to  a  cent  of  the  amount  stolen.  He  and  his  con 
federates  had  been  compelled  to  take  Pierre's  un- 
vouched  statements.  Therefore  he  could  not  contro 
vert  the  figures,  had  he  chosen.  He  did  not  know  the 
amount. 

"  There  must  have  been  a  mistake,  sir." 

"Mistake!"  Firmstone  blazed  out.  "What  do 
you  say  to  this  ?  " 

He  pulled  a  canvas  from  the  sacks  of  ore  that  had 
been  brought  to  the  office.  He  expected  to  see  Luna 
collapse  entirely.  Instead,  a  look  of  astonishment 
spread  over  the  foreman's  face. 

"  I'll  give  up ! "  he  exclaimed.  He  looked  Firm- 
stone  squarely  in  the  face.  He  saw  his  way  clearly 
now.  "  You're  right,"  he  said.  "  There  has  been 
stealing.  It's  up  to  me.  I'll  fire  anyone  you  say,  or 
I'll  quit  myself,  or  you  can  fire  me.  But,  before  God, 
[56] 


BENNIE    OPENS     THE    POT 

I  never  stole  a  dollar  from  the  Rainbow  mill."  He 
spoke  the  literal  truth.  The  spirit  of  it  did  not 
trouble  him. 

Firmstone  was  astonished  at  the  man's  affirmations, 
but  they  did  not  deceive  him,  nor  divert  him  from 
his  purpose. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  tell  you  whom  to  let  out  or  take 
in,"  he  replied.  "  I'm  holding  you  responsible.  I've 
told  you  a  good  deal,  but  not  all,  by  a  good  long 
measure.  This  stealing  has  got  to  stop,  and  you  can 
stop  it.  You  would  better  stop  it.  Now  go  back  to 
your  work." 

That  very  night  Firmstone  wrote  a  full  account 
of  the  recovery  of  the  stolen  ore,  the  evils  which  he 
found  on  taking  charge  of  the  property,  the  steps 
which  he  proposed  for  their  elimination.  He  closed 
with  these  words : 

"  It  must  be  remembered  that  these  conditions  have 
had  a  long  time  in  which  to  develop.  At  the  very 
least,  an  equal  time  must  be  allowed  for  their  elimina 
tion  ;  but  I  believe  that  I  shall  be  successful." 


[57] 


CHAPTER    VI 

The  Family  Circle 

ON  the  morning  of  Elise's  strike  for  freedom, 
Pierre  came  to  breakfast  with  his  usual  at 
mosphere  of  compressed  wrath.  He  glanced 
at  his  breakfast  which  Madame  had  placed  on  the 
table  at  the  first  sound  which  heralded  his  approach. 
There  was  nothing  there  to  break  the  tension  and  to 
set  free  the  pent-up  storm  within.  Much  medita 
tion,  with  fear  and  trembling,  had  taught  Madame 
the  proper  amount  of  butter  to  apply  to  the  hot  toast, 
the  proportion  of  sugar  and  cream  to  add  to  the  cof 
fee,  and  the  exact  shade  of  crisp  and  brown  to  put 
on  his  fried  eggs.  But  a  man  bent  on  trouble  can  in 
variably  find  a  cause  for  turning  it  loose. 

"  Where  is  Elise?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Elise,"     Madame   answered,    evasively,    "  she   is 
around  somewhere." 

"  Somewhere   is   nowhere.      I   demand   to   know." 
Pierre  looked  threatening. 

"  Shall  I  call  her?  "  Madame  vouchsafed. 

"  If  you  know  not  where  she  is,  how  shall  you  call 
her?    Heh?    If  you  know,  mek  ansaire!  " 
[58] 


THE     FAMILY     CIRCLE 

"  I  don't  know  where  she  is." 

"  Bien!  "  Pierre  reseated  himself  and  began  to 
munch  his  toast  savagely. 

Madame  was  having  a  struggle  with  herself.  It 
showed  plainly  on  the  thin,  anxious  face.  The  lips 
compressed  with  determination,  the  eyes  set,  then 
wavered,  and  again  the  indeterminate  lines  of  ac 
quiescent  subjection  gained  their  accustomed  as 
cendency.  Back  and  forth  assertion  and  complaisance 
fled  and  followed;  only  assertion  was  holding  its 
own. 

The  eggs  had  disappeared,  also  the  greater  part  of 
the  toast.  Pierre  swallowed  the  last  of  his  coffee,  and, 
without  a  look  at  his  silent  wife,  began  to  push  his 
chair  from  the  table.  Madame's  voice  startled  him. 

"  Elise  is  sixteen,"  she  ventured. 

Pierre  fell  back  in  his  chair,  astonished.  The 
words  were  simple  and  uncompromising,  but  the  in 
tonation  suggested  that  they  were  not  final. 

"  Well?  "  he  asked,  explosively. 

"  When  are  you  going  to  send  Elise  away  to 
school?" 

"  To  school?  "  Pierre  was  struggling  with  his  as 
tonishment. 

"  Yes."  Madame  was  holding  herself  to  her  de 
termination  with  an  effort. 

"  To  school?    Baste!    She  read,  she  write,  she  mek 
ze  figure,  is  it  not  suffice?     Heh?  " 
[59] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

"  That  makes  no  difference.  You  promised  her 
father  that  you  would  send  her  away  to  school." 

Pierre  looked  around  apprehensively. 

"  Shut  up !    Kip  quiet !  " 

"  I  won't  shut  up,  and  I  won't  keep  quiet."  Ma- 
dame's  blood  was  warming.  The  sensation  was  as 
pleasant  as  it  was  unusual.  "  I  will  keep  quiet  for 
myself.  I  won't  for  Elise." 

"  Elise!  Elise!  Ain't  I  do  all  right  by  Elise?" 
Pierre  asked,  aggressively.  "  She  have  plenty  to  eat, 
plenty  to  wear,  you  tek  good  care  of  her.  Don't  I 
tek  good  care,  also?  Me?  Pierre?  She  mek  no  com 
plain,  heh?  " 

"  That  isn't  what  her  father  wanted,  and  it  isn't 
what  you  promised  him." 

Pierre  looked  thoughtful;  his  face  softened 
slightly. 

"  We  have  no  children,  you  and  me.  We  have 
honly  Elise,  one  li'l  girl,  la  bonne  Elise.  You  wan' 
mek  me  give  up  la  bonne  Elise?  P'quoi?  "  His  face 
blazed  again  as  he  looked  up  wrathfully.  "  You  wan' 
mek  her  go  to  school!  P'quoi?  So  she  learn  mek 
teedle,  teedle  on  ze  piano?  So  she  learn  speak  gran'? 
So  she  tink  of  me,  Pierre,  one  li'l  Frenchmens,  not 
good  enough  for  her,  for  mek  her  shame  wiz  her 
gran'  friends?  Heh?  Who  mek  ze  care  for  ze  li'l 
babby?  Who  mek  her  grow  up  strong?  Heh?  You 
mek  her  go  school.  You  mek  ze  gran'  dam-zelle. 
You  mek  her  go  back  to  her  pip'l.  You  mek  me, 
[60] 


THE     FAMILY     CIRCLE 

Pierre,  you,  grow  hoi'  wiz  noddings?  Hall  ze  res' 
ze  time  wiz  no  li'l  Elise?  How  you  like  li'l  Elise  go 
away  and  mek  ze  marry,  and  w'en  she  have  li'l  chil 
dren,  she  say  to  her  li'l  children,  *  Mes  enfants,  voila! 
Pierre  and  Madame,  ires  bon  Pierre  and  Madame,' 
and  les  petits  enfants  mek  big  eyes  at  Pierre  and 
Madame  and  li'l  Elise?  She  say,  '  Pauvres  enfants, 
Pierre  and  Madame  will  not  hurt  you.  Bon  Pierre! 
Bonne  Madame ! ' :  Pierre  made  a  gesture  of  dep 
recating  pity. 

Madame  was  touched  to  the  quick.  Starting  tears 
dimmed  the  heavy  eyes.  Had  she  not  thought  of  all 
this  a  thousand  times?  If  Pierre  cared  so  much  for 
li'l  Elise  how  much  more  reason  had  she  to  care? 
Li'l  Elise  had  been  the  only  bright  spot  in  her  dreary 
life,  yet  she  was  firm.  Elise  had  been  very  dear  to  her 
in  the  past,  but  her  duty  was  plain.  Her  voice  was 
gentler. 

"  Elise  is  not  ours,  Pierre.  It  is  harder  to  do  now 
what  we  ought  to  have  done  long  ago." 

Pierre  rose  and  walked  excitedly  back  and  forth. 
He  was  speaking  half  to  himself,  half  to  Madame. 

"  Sixtin  year  'go  li'l  Elise  mammy  die.  Sixtin 
year !  She  no  say, '  Madame  Marie,  tek  my  li'l  babby 
back  Eas'  to  my  friend,  hem?  No.  She  say,  '  Ma 
dame  Marie,  my  poor  li'l  babby  ain'  got  no  mammy 
no  mo'.  Tek  good  care  my  poor  li'l  babby.'  Then 
she  go  die.  We  mek  good  care  of  ze  li'l  Elise,  me 
[61] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

and  you,  heh?  We  sen'  away  Elise?  Sacre  non! 
Nevaire ! "  Pierre  stopped,  and  looked  fiercely  at 
Madame. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Madame.  "  Her  mammy  asked 
me  to  care  for  her  little  baby,  but  it  was  for  her 
father.  When  her  father  died  he  made  you  promise 
to  give  her  to  her  friends.  Don't  I  know  how  hard 
it  is?  "  Her  tears  were  flowing  freely  now.  "  Every 
year  we  said, '  She  is  yet  too  young  to  go.  Next  year 
we  will  keep  our  promise,'  and  next  year  she  was 
dearer  to  us.  And  now  she  is  sixteen.  She  must 

go." 

Pierre  broke  in  fiercely : 

"She  shall  not!  Sixtin  year?  Sixtin  year  she 
know  honly  me,  Pierre,  her  daddy,  and  you,  her 
mammy.  What  you  tink,  heh?  Elise  go  school  in 
one  beeg  city,  heh?  She  mek  herself  choke  wiz  ze 
brick  house  and  ze  stone  street.  She  get  sick  and 
lonesome  for  ze  mountain,  for  her  hoi'  daddy  and  her 
hoi'  mammy,  for  ze  grass  and  ze  flower." 

"  That  is  for  her  to  say.  Send  her  away  as  you 
promised.  Then  " — Madame's  heavy  eyes  grew  deep, 
almost  beautiful — "  then,  if  she  comes  back  to  us !  " 

Pierre  turned  sullenly. 

"  She  is  mine.     Mine  and  yours.     She  shall  stay." 

Madame's  tears  ceased  flowing. 

"  She  shall  go."    Her  temerity  frightened  her.    "  I 
will  tell  her  all  if  you  don't  send  her  away." 
[62] 


THE     FAMILY     CIRCLE 

Pierre  did  not  explode,  as  she  expected.  Instead, 
there  was  the  calm  of  invincible  purpose.  He  held 
up  one  finger  impressively. 

"  I  settle  hall  zis.  Ecoutez!  She  shall  marry. 
Right  away.  Queek.  Da's  hall."  He  left  the  room 
before  Madame  had  time  to  reply. 

Madame  was  too  terrified  to  think.  The  possibility 
conveyed  in  her  husband's  declaration  had  never  sug 
gested  itself  to  her.  Elise  was  still  the  little  baby 
nestling  in  her  arms,  the  little  girl  prattling  and 
playing  indoors  and  out,  on  the  wide  ranch,  and 
later,  Madame  shuddered,  when  Pierre  had  aban 
doned  the  ranch  for  the  Blue  Goose,  waiting  at  the 
bar,  keeping  Pierre's  books,  redeeming  checks  at  the 
desk,  moving  out  and  in  among  the  throng  of  coarse, 
uncouth  men,  but  through  it  all  the  same  beautiful, 
wilful,  loving  little  girl,  so  dear  to  Madame's  heart, 
so  much  of  her  life.  What  did  it  matter  that  pro 
fanity  died  on  the  lips  of  the  men  in  her  presence, 
that  at  her  bidding  they  ceased  to  drink  to  intoxi 
cation,  that  hopeless  wives  came  to  her  for  counsel, 
that  their  dull  faces  lighted  at  her  words,  that  in  sick 
ness  or  death  she  was  to  them  a  comfort  and  a  refuge  ? 

What  if  Pierre  had  fiercely  protected  her  from  the 

knowledge  of  the  more  loathsome  vices  of  a  mining 

camp?    It  was  no  more  than  right.     Pierre  loved  her. 

She  knew  that.     Pierre  was  hoarding  every  shining 

'  dollar  that  came  to  his  hand.     Was  he  lavish  in  his 

[63] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

garnishment  of  the  Blue  Goose?  It  was  only  for 
the  more  effective  luring  of  other  gold  from  the 
pockets  of  the  careless,  unthinking  men  who  worked 
in  mines  or  mills,  or  roamed  among  the  mountains  or 
washed  the  sands  of  every  stream,  spending  all  they 
found,  hoping  for  and  talking  of  the  wealth  which, 
if  it  came,  would  only  smite  them  with  more  rapid 
destruction.  And  all  these  little  rivulets,  small  each 
one  alone,  united  at  the  Blue  Goose  into  a  growing 
stream  that  went  no  farther.  For  what  end  ?  Madame 
knew.  For  Pierre,  life  began  and  ended  in  Elise. 
Madame  knew,  and  sympathized  with  this;  but  her 
purpose  was  not  changed.  She  knew  little  of  life  be 
yond  the  monotonous  desolation  of  a  western  ranch, 
the  revolting  glamour  of  a  gambling  resort,  where 
men  revelled  in  the  fierce  excitement  of  shuffling  cards 
and  clicking  chips,  returning  to  squalid  homes  and  to 
spiritless  women,  weighed  down  and  broken  with  the 
bearing  of  many  children,  and  the  merciless,  un 
broken  torture  of  thankless,  thoughtless  demands 
upon  their  lives.  Madame  saw  all  this.  She  saw  and 
felt  the  dreary  hopelessness  of  it  all.  Much  as  she 
loved  Elise,  if  it  parted  her  from  all  that  made  life 
endurable  she  would  not  shrink  from  the  sacrifice. 
She  knew  nothing  of  life  beyond  her  restricted  circle, 
but  anything  outside  this  circle  was  a  change,  and 
any  change  must  be  for  the  better. 

"  She  shall  marry.     Right  away."    Pierre's  words 
[64] 


THE     FAMILY     CIRCLE 

came  to  her  again  with  overwhelming  terror.  Over 
whelming,  because  she  saw  no  way  of  averting  the 
threatened  blow. 

From  behind,  Madame  felt  two  soft  hands  close  on 
her  straining  eyes,  and  a  sympathetic  voice : 

"  Has  daddy  been  scolding  you  again?  What  was 
it  about  this  time?  Was  it  because  I  ran  away  this 
morning?  I  did  run  away,  you  know." 

For  reply  Madame  only  bowed  her  head  from  be 
tween  the  clasping  hands  that  for  the  first  time  had 
distress  instead  of  comfort  for  her  groping  soul.  She 
did  not  pray  for  guidance.  She  never  thought  of 
praying.  Why  should  she?  The  prisoned  seed, 
buried  in  the  dank  and  quickening  soil,  struggles  in 
stinctively  toward  the  source  of  light  and  strength. 
But  what  instinct  is  there  to  guide  the  human  soul 
that,  quickened  by  unselfish  love,  is  yet  walled  in  by 
the  Stygian  darkness  of  an  ignorant  life? 

Madame's  hands  were  clinched.  Her  hot  eyes  were 
dry  and  hard.  No  light!  No  help!  Only  a  fierce 
spirit  of  resistance.  At  length  she  was  conscious  of 
Elise  standing  before  her,  half  terrified,  but  wholly 
determined.  Her  eyes  moistened,  then  grew  soft. 
Her  outstretched  arms  sought  the  girl  and  drew  her 
within  their  convulsive  grasp. 

"  My  poor  Elise !  My  poor  little  girl,  with  no  one 
to  help  her  but  me !  " 

"  What  is  it,  mammy?    What  is  it?  " 
[65] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

Madame  only  moaned. 

"  My  poor  little  Elise !    My  poor  little  girl !  " 

Elise  freed  herself  from  the  resisting  arms. 

"  Tell  me  at  once !  "  She  stamped  her  foot  impa 
tiently. 

Madame  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"  You  shall  not  marry  that  man.  You  shall  not !  " 
Her  voice  rose.  "  I  will  tell  you  all — everything.  I 
will,  if  he  kills  me.  I  will!  I  will!" 

The  door  from  the  saloon  was  violently  opened,  and 
Pierre  strode  in.  He  pushed  Elise  aside,  and,  with 
narrowed  eyes  and  uplifted  hand,  approached  his 
wife. 

"  You  will?    You  will,  heh?  " 

The  threatening  blow  fell  heavily,  but  upon  Elise. 
She  thrust  forth  her  hands.  Pierre  stumbled  back 
ward  before  the  unexpected  assault.  His  eyes,  blaz 
ing  with  ungoverned  fury,  swept  around  the  room. 
They  rested  upon  a  stick.  He  grasped  it,  and  turned 
once  more  toward  Madame. 

"  You  will !  You  will !  I  teach  you  bettaire.  I 
teach  you  say  '  I  will '  to  me !  I  teach  you !  "  Then 
he  stopped.  He  was  looking  squarely  into  the  muz 
zle  of  a  silver-mounted  revolver  held  in  a  steady  hand 
and  levelled  by  a  steady  eye. 

Pierre  was  like  a  statue.  Another  look  came  into 
his  eyes.  Youth  toyed  with  death,  and  was  not  afraid. 
Pierre  knew  that.  At  threatening  weapons  in  the 
[66] 


THE     FAMILY     CIRCLE 

hands  of  drink-crazed  men  Pierre  smiled  with  scorn. 
The  bad  man  stood  in  terror  of  the  law  as  well  as 
of  Pierre.  But  when  determined  youth  laid  hold  on 
death  and  shook  it  in  his  face  Pierre  knew  enough  to 
stand  aside. 

Elise  broke  the  tense  silence. 

"  Don't  you  ever  dare  to  strike  mammy  again. 
Don't  you  dare !  " 

Without  a  word  Pierre  left  the  room.  He  had  loved 
Elise  before  with  as  unselfish  a  love  as  he  could  know. 
But  hitherto  he  had  not  admired  her.  Now  he  rubbed 
his  hands  and  chuckled  softly,  baring  his  teeth  with 
unsmiling  lips. 

"  A-a-ah !  "  he  breathed  forth.  "  Magnifique! 
Superb!  La  petite  diable!  She  mek  ze  shoot  in  her 
eye !  In  ze  fingaire !  She  bin  shoot  her  hoi'  man, 
her  hoi'  daddy,  moil  Pierre."  Pierre  thoughtfully 
rubbed  his  smooth  chin.  "  La  petite  diable!  " 

Poor  Madame!  Poor  Pierre!  The  dog  chases  his 
tail  with  undiminished  zest,  and  is  blissfully  rewarded 
if  a  straggling  hair  but  occasionally  brushes  his  nose. 
He  licks  his  accessible  paws,  impelled  alone  by  a  sense 
of  duty. 


[67] 


CHAPTER    VII 

Mr.  Morrison  Tackles  a  Man  with  a  Mind 
of  His  Own  and  a  Man  without  One 

MR.  MORRISON  was  a  slick  bird— in  fact, 
a  very  slick  bird.  It  was  his  soul's  delight 
to  preen  his  unctuous  feathers  and  to  shiver 
them  into  the  most  effective  and  comfortable  posi 
tion,  to  settle  his  head  between  his  shoulders,  and, 
with  moistened  lips,  to  view  his  little  world  from 
dreamy,  half-closed  eyes.  This,  however,  only  hap 
pened  in  restful  moments  of  complacent  self-contem 
plation.  He  never  allowed  these  moods  to  interfere 
with  business.  He  had  broached  the  subject  of  mar 
riage  to  Pierre,  and  Pierre  had  of  course  fallen  in 
with  his  views.  The  fact  that  Elise  evidently  loathed 
him  disturbed  no  whit  his  placid  mind.  He  was  in  no 
hurry.  He  assumed  Elise  as  his  own  whenever  he 
chose  to  say  the  word.  He  regarded  her  in  much  the 
same  way  as  a  half-hungered  epicure  a  toothsome  din 
ner,  holding  himself  aloof  until  his  craving  stomach 
should  give  the  utmost  zest  to  his  viands  without  cur 
tailing  the  pleasure  of  his  palate  by  ravenous  haste. 
He  served  Pierre  with  diligence  and  fidelity.  The 
[68] 


MORRISON     TACKLES    A    MAN 

Blue  Goose  would  sooner  or  later  come  to  him  with 
Elise. 

He  had  ambitions,  political  especially,  not  ac 
quired,  but  instinctive.  Not  that  he  felt  inspired  with 
a  mission  to  do  good  unto  others,  but  that  others 
should  do  good  unto  him,  and  also  that  the  particular 
kind  of  good  should  be  of  his  own  choosing.  He  knew 
very  well  the  temperaments  of  his  chosen  constituency, 
and  he  adapted  himself  to  their  impressionable  pecu 
liarities.  To  this  end  he  dispensed  heavily  padded 
gratuities  with  much  ostentation  on  selected  occa 
sions,  but  gathered  his  tolls  in  merciless  silence.  He 
did  this  without  fear,  for  he  knew  that  the  blare  of 
the  multitude  would  drown  the  cries  of  the  stricken 
few. 

Mr.  Morrison  had  long  meditated  upon  the  proper 
course  to  take  in  order  best  to  compass  his  ends.  The 
unrest  among  the  employees  of  the  Rainbow  Com 
pany  came  to  him  unsought,  and  he  at  once  grasped 
the  opportunity.  The  organisation  of  a  miners'  and 
millmen's  union  would  be  an  obvious  benefit  to  the 
rank  and  file;  their  manifestation  of  gratitude  would 
naturally  take  the  very  form  he  most  desired.  To 
this  end  before  the  many  he  displayed  the  pyrotech 
nics  of  meaningless  oratory,  in  much  the  same  manner 
as  a  strutting  peacock  his  brilliant  tail;  but  individ 
uals  he  hunted  with  nickel  bullets  and  high-power 
guns.  On  various  occasions  he  had  displayed  the  pea- 
[69] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

cock  tail;  this  particular  afternoon  he  took  down  his 
flat-trajectoried  weapon  and  went  forth  to  gun  for 
Bennie. 

Bennie  had  washed  the  dinner  dishes,  reset  his  ta 
ble,  prepared  for  the  coming  meal,  and  now,  as  was 
his  custom,  was  lying  in  his  bunk,  with  an  open  book 
in  his  hands,  prepared  to  read  or  doze,  as  the  spirit 
moved  him. 

Mr.  Morrison  appeared  before  him. 

"  Howdy,  Bennie !     Taking  a  nap?  " 

"  I'm  taking  nothing  but  what's  my  own."  Ben 
nie  looked  meaningly  at  Morrison. 

Morrison  slipped  into  what  he  mistook  for  Ben- 
nie's  mood. 

"  You're  wise,  if  you  get  it  all.  Many's  the  igno 
rant  devil  that  takes  only  what's  given  him  and  asks 
no  questions,  worse  luck  to  him !  " 

"  You'll  do  well  to  go  on,"  remarked  Bennie, 
placidly.  "  There's  many  that  gets  more,  and  then 
damns  the  gift  and  the  giver." 

"  And  just  what  might  that  mean,  Bennie?  "  Mor 
rison  looked  a  little  puzzled. 

"  It  means  that,  if  more  got  what  they  deserved, 
'twould  be  better  for  honest  men."  Bennie  was  very 
decided. 

Morrison's  face  cleared.     He  held  out  his  hand. 

"Shake!  "he  said. 

Bennie  took  the  proffered  hand. 
[70] 


MORRISON     TACKLES    A    MAN 

"  Here's  hoping  you'll  come  to  your  own ! "  he  re 
marked,  grimly. 

The  clasped  hands  each  fell  to  its  own.  Morrison's 
hands  went  to  his  pocket  as  he  stretched  out  his 
crossed  legs  with  a  thankful  look  on  his  face. 

"  I'm  not  specially  troubled  about  myself.  I've 
had  fairly  good  luck  looking  out  for  Patrick  Morri 
son,  Esq.  It's  these  poor  devils  around  here  that's 
troubling  me.  They  get  nipped  and  pinched  at  every 
turn  of  the  cards." 

"  It's  God's  truth  you're  talking.  And  you  want 
to  help  them  same  poor  devils  ?  " 

"  That's  what." 

"  Then  listen  to  me.  Smash  your  roulette  and 
faro.  Burn  down  the  Blue  Goose,  first  taking  out 
your  whisky  that'll  burn  only  the  throats  of  the  fools 
who  drink  it.  Do  that  same,  and  you'll  see  fat  grow 
on  lean  bones,  and  children's  pants  come  out  of  the 
shade  of  the  patches." 

Morrison  lifted  his  hat,  scratching  his  head  medi 
tatively. 

"  That  isn't  exactly  what  I'm  at." 

"  Eagles  to  snowbirds  'tis  not !  "  put  in  Bennie, 
aside. 

Morrison  gave  no  heed  to  the  interruption. 

"  Every  man  has  the  right  to  spend  his  own  money 
in  his  own  way." 

[71] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

"  The  poor  devils  get  the  money  and  the  Blue  Goose 
furnishes  the  way,"  Bennie  again  interpolated. 

Morrison  was  getting  uneasy.  He  was  conscious 
that  he  was  not  making  headway. 

"  You  can't  do  but  one  thing  at  a  time  in  good 
shape." 

"  You're  a  damned  liar !  At  the  Blue  Goose  you're 
doing  everyone  all  the  time." 

Morrison  rose  impatiently.  The  nickel  bullets  were 
missing  their  billet.  He  began  tentatively  to  unfold 
the  peacock's  tail. 

"  You  see,"  he  said,  "  it's  like  this.  In  union  is 
strength.  What  makes  the  rich  richer?  Because 
they  hang  together  like  swarming  bees.  You  pick 
the  honey  of  one  and  you  get  the  stings  of  all.  Learn 
from  the  rich  to  use  the  rich  man's  weapons.  Let  us 
poor  workingmen  band  together  like  brothers  in  a 
common  cause.  Meet  union  with  union,  strength  with 
strength.  Then,  and  only  then,  can  we  get  our 
own." 

"  It  took  more  than  one  cat  to  make  strings  for  that 
fiddle,"  Bennie  remarked,  thoughtfully.  "  Just  what 
might  that  mean  ?  " 

Morrison  again  looked  puzzled.  He  went  back  to 
his  bullets. 

"  To  be  specific,"  he  spoke  impressively,  "  as  things 
stand  now,  if  one  workingman  thinks  he  ought  to 
have  more  pay  he  goes  to  the  company  and  asks  for 
[72] 


MORRISON     TACKLES    A    MAN 

it.  The  company  says  no.  If  he  gets  troublesome, 
they  fire  him.  If  one  man  works  in  a  close  breast  with 
foul  air  the  company  tells  him  to  go  back  to  his 
work  or  quit.  It  costs  money  to  timber  bad  ground. 
One  poor  workman's  life  doesn't  count  for  much. 
It's  cheaper  for  the  company  to  take  chances  than  to 
put  in  timber."  He  paused,  looking  sharply  at  Ben- 
nie. 

"  You're  talking  sense  now.  How  do  you  propose 
to  help  it?  " 

Morrison  felt  solid  ground  beneath  his  feet. 

"  Do  as  I  said.  Learn  from  the  rich.  Unite.  If 
the  men  are  not  getting  fair  wages,  the  union  can  de 
mand  more." 

Bennie  lifted  an  inquiring  finger. 

"  One  word  there.  You  want  to  organise  a  union  ?  " 

"  That's  it.  That's  the  stuff."  Morrison  was  flat 
teringly  acquiescent.  "  A  company  can  turn  down 
one  man,  but  the  union  will  shove  it  up  to  them 
hard." 

"  If  one  man  breaks  five  tons  of  ore  a  day,  and  an 
other  man  breaks  only  one,  will  the  union  see  that  both 
get  the  same  pay  ?  " 

"  A  workingman  is  a  workingman."  Morrison 
spoke  less  enthusiastically.  "  A  man  that  puts  in  his 
time  earns  all  that  he  gets." 

Bennie  looked  musingly  at  the  toes  of  his  boots. 

"  The  union  will  equalise  the  pay  ?  " 
[73] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

"  You  bet  it  will !  " 

"  They'll  make  the  company  ventilate  the  mines 
and  keep  bad  ground  timbered?  " 

"  They'll  look  after  these  things  sharp,  and  any 
thing  else  that  comes  up." 

"  The  union  will  run  the  company,  but  who'll  run 
the  union?  " 

Morrison  waxed  enthusiastic. 

"  We'll  take  our  turn  at  bossing  all  right.  Every 
man  in  the  union  stands  on  the  same  floor,  and  when 
any  of  the  boys  have  a  grievance  the  president  will 
see  them  through.  The  president  and  the  executive 
committee  can  tie  up  the  whole  camp  if  the  company 
bucks." 

"  Is  the  union  organised  ?"  asked  Bennie. 

"  Not  yet.  It's  like  this."  Morrison's  voice  had 
a  tinge  of  patronage.  "  You  see,  I  want  to  get  a  few 
of  the  level-headed  men  in  the  camp  worked  up  to 
the  idea ;  the  rest  will  come  in,  hands  down." 

"  Who  have  you  got  strung  ?  " 

"  Well,  there's  Luna,  and " 

"  Luna's  a  crowd  by  himself.  He's  got  more  faces 
than  a  town-clock  telling  time  to  ten  streets.  Who 
else?  " 

"  There's  Thompson,  the  mine  foreman " 

"  Jim  Thompson  ?    Don't  I  know  him  now  ?    He'll 
throw  more  stunts  than  a  small  boy  with  a  bellyful 
of  green  apples.     Who  else?  " 
[74] 


MORRISON     TACKLES    A    MAN 

Morrison  looked  a  little  sulky. 

"  Well,  how  about  yourself.  That's  what  I'm  here 
to  find  out." 

Bennie  glared  up  wrathfully. 

"  You'll  take  away  no  doubts  about  me,  if  my 
tongue  isn't  struck  by  a  palsy  till  it  can't  bore  the 
wax  of  your  ears.  When  it  comes  to  bosses,  I'll 
choose  my  own.  I'm  American  and  American  born. 
I'd  rather  be  bossed  by  a  silk  tile  and  kid  gloves  than 
by  a  Tipperary  hat  and  a  shillalah,  with  a  damned 
three-cornered  shamrock  riding  the  necks  of  both. 
It's  a  pretty  pass  we've  come  to  if  we've  got  to  go  to 
Irish  peat-bogs  and  Russian  snow-banks  to  find  them 
as  will  tell  us  our  rights  and  how  to  get  them,  and 
then  import  dagoes  with  rings  in  their  ears  and  Hun 
garians  with  spikes  in  their  shoes  to  back  us  up.  Let 
me  talk  a  bit !  I  get  my  seventy-five  dollars  a  month 
for  knowing  my  business  and  attending  to  it,  be 
cause  my  grub  goes  down  the  necks  of  the  men  in 
stead  of  out  on  the  dump ;  because  I  give  more  time  to 
a  side  of  bacon  than  I  do  to  organising  unions.  And 
I'll  tell  you  some  more  facts.  The  rich  are  growing 
richer  for  using  what  they  have,  and  the  poor  are 
growing  poorer  because  they  don't  know  enough  to 
handle  what  they've  got.  Organise  a  union  for  keep 
ing  damned  fools  out  of  the  Blue  Goose,  and  from  go 
ing  home  and  lamming  hell  out  of  their  wives  and 
children,  and  I'll  talk  with  you.  As  it  is,  the  sooner 
[75] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

you  light  out  the  more  respect  I'll  have  for  the  sense 
of  you  that  I  haven't  seen." 

Morrison  was  blazing  with  anger. 

"  You'll  sing  another  tune  before  long.  We  pro 
pose  to  run  every  scab  out  of  the  country." 

"  Run,  and  be  damned  to  you !  I've  got  a  thou 
sand-acre  ranch  and  five  hundred  head  of  cattle.  I've 
sucked  it  from  the  Rainbow  at  seventy-five  a  month, 
and  I've  given  value  received,  without  any  union  to 
help  me.  Only  take  note  of  this.  I've  laid  my  eggs  in 
my  own  nest,  and  not  at  the  Blue  Goose." 

Morrison  turned  and  left  the  room.  Over  his  shoul 
der  he  flung  back : 

"  This  isn't  the  last  word,  you  damned  scab !  You'll 
hear  from  me  again." 

"  'Tis  not  the  nature  of  a  pig  to  keep  quiet  with  a 
dog  at  his  heels."  Bennie  stretched  his  neck  out  of 
the  door  to  fire  his  parting  shot. 

Morrison  went  forth  with  a  vigorous  flea  in  each 
ear,  which  did  much  to  disturb  his  complacency.  Ben 
nie  had  not  made  him  thoughtful,  only  vengeful. 
There  is  nothing  quite  so  discomposing  as  the  scorn 
ful  rejection  of  proffers  of  self-seeking  philan 
thropy.  Bennie's  indignation  was  instinctive  rather 
than  analytical,  the  inherent  instinct  that  puts  up  the 
back  and  tail  of  a  new-born  kitten  at  its  first  sight  of 
a  benevolent-appearing  dog. 
[76] 


MORRISON     TACKLES    A    MAN 

Morrison  had  not  gone  far  from  the  boarding- 
house  before  he  chanced  against  Luna. 

Morrison  was  the  last  person  Luna  would  have 
wished  to  meet.  Since  his  interview  with  Firmstone 
he  had  scrupulously  avoided  the  Blue  Goose,  and  he 
had  seen  neither  Morrison  nor  Pierre.  His  resolution 
to  mend  his  ways  was  the  result  of  fear,  rather  than 
of  change  of  heart.  Neither  Morrison  nor  Pierre  had 
fear.  They  were  playing  safe.  Luna  felt  their  su 
periority;  he  was  doing  his  best  to  keep  from  their 
influence. 

"Howdy!" 

"  Howdy !  "  Luna  answered. 

"  Where've  you  been  this  long  time?  "  asked  Mor 
rison,  suavely. 

Luna  did  not  look  up. 

"  Down  at  the  mill,  of  course." 

"What's  going  on?"  pursued  Morrison.  "You 
haven't  been  up  lately." 

"  There's  been  big  things  going  on.  Pierre's  little 
game's  all  off."  Luna  shrank  from  a  direct  revela 
tion. 

"  Oh,  drop  this !    What's  up  ?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you  what's  up."  Luna  looked  defiant. 
"  You  know  the  last  lot  of  ore  you  pinched  ?  Well, 
the  old  man's  got  it,  and,  what's  more,  he's  on  to  your 
whole  business." 

[77] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

Morrison's  face  set. 

"  Look  here  now,  Luna.  You  just  drop  that  little 
your  business.  It  looks  mighty  suspicious,  talking 
like  that.  I  don't  know  what  you  mean.  If  you've 
been  pulling  the  mill  and  got  caught  you'd  better 
pick  out  another  man  to  unload  on  besides  me." 

"  I  never  took  a  dollar  from  the  mill,  and  I  told 
the  old  man  so.  I " 

But  Morrison  interrupted : 

"  You've  been  squealing,  have  you?  Well,  you  just 
go  on,  only  remember  this.  If  you're  going  to  set  in 
a  little  game  of  freeze-out,  you  play  your  cards  close 
to  your  coat." 

Luna  saw  the  drift  of  Morrison's  remarks,  and 
hastened  to  defend  himself. 

"  It's  gospel  truth.  I  haven't  squealed."  He  gave 
a  detailed  account  of  his  midnight  interview  with 
Firmstone,  defining  sharply  between  his  facts  and  his 
inferences.  He  finally  concluded :  "  The  old  man's 
sharp.  There  isn't  a  corner  of  the  mine  he  doesn't 
know,  and  there  isn't  a  chink  in  the  mill,  from  the  feed 
to  the  tail-sluice,  that  he  hasn't  got  his  eye  on." 
Luna's  mood  changed  from  the  defensive  to  the  as 
sertive.  "  I'll  tell  you  one  thing  more.  He's  square, 
square  as  a  die.  He  had  me  bunched,  but  he  give  me 
a  chance.  He  told  me  that  I  could  stop  the  stealing 
at  the  mill,  that  I  had  got  to,  and,  by  God,  I'm  going 
to,  in  spite  of  hell !  " 

[78] 


MORRISON     TACKLES    A    MAN 

Morrison  was  relieved,  but  a  sneer  buried  the  mani 
festation  of  his  relief. 

"  Well,"  he  exclaimed,  "  of  all  the  soft,  easy  things 
I  ever  saw  you're  the  softest  and  the  easiest ! " 

Luna  only  looked  dogged. 

"  Hard  words  break  no  bones,"  he  answered,  sul 
lenly. 

"  That  may  be,"  answered  Morrison ;  "  but  it 
doesn't  keep  soft  ones  from  gumming  your  wits,  that's 
sure." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  I  mean  just  this.  You  say  the  old  man  had  you 
bunched.  Well,  he's  got  you  on  your  back  now,  and 
roped,  too." 

Luna  answered  still  more  sullenly: 

"  There's  more'n  one  will  be  roped,  then.  If  it 
comes  to  a  show-down,  I'll  not  be  alone." 

"  All  right,  Mr.  Luna."  Morrison  spoke  evenly. 
"  When  you  feel  like  calling  the  game  just  go  right 
ahead.  I'm  not  going  to  stop  you." 

Luna  made  no  immediate  reply.  Morrison  waited, 
ostentatiously  indifferent.  Luna  finally  broke  the  si 
lence. 

"  I  don't  see  how  the  old  man's  got  me  roped." 

"  Well,  now  you're  acting  as  if  you  had  sense.   I'll 
tell  you.     I'm  always  ready  to  talk  to  a  man  that's 
got  sense.    Just  answer  a  few  straight  questions.     In 
the  first  place,  you've  been  stealing  from  the  mill." 
[79] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

"  I  tell  you  I  haven't,"  broke  in  Luna ;  "  but  I  can 
tell  you  who  has."     He  looked  sharply  at  Morrison. 
Morrison  waved  his  hand  with  wearied  endurance. 
"  Well,  you're  foreman  at  the  mill.    If  there's  been 
stealing,  and  you  know  your  business,  you  know  where 
it  was  done  and  how  it  was  done.     If  you  don't  know 
your  business  what  are  you  there  for,  and  how  long 
are  you  going  to  stay  ?    You  say  yourself  the  old  man 
is  sharp,  and  he  is.     How  long  is  he  going  to  keep 
either  a  thief  or  a  fool  in  your  place?  " 

"  I'm  not  a  thief,"  Luna  answered,  hotly.  "  I'm 
not  a  fool,  either,  and  I'm  not  going  to  be  made  one 
any  longer  by  you,  either." 

"  If  you're  not  a  fool  listen  to  me,  and  keep  quiet 
till  I'm  through."  Morrison  leaned  forward,  check 
ing  his  words  with  his  fingers.  "  The  old  man's  sharp, 
and  he's  got  you  roped,  any  turn.  There's  been  steal 
ing  at  the  mill.  You  say  this.  You're  foreman  there. 
It  doesn't  make  any  difference  whether  you  stole  or 
someone  else.  They  hold  you  responsible.  The  old 
man's  got  the  cards  in  his  hands.  The  men  saw  him 
come  in  the  mill,  shut  down,  and  take  samples  to  back 
him  up." 

"Well,  what  of  it?" 

"  What  of  it,  you  fool !     This  is  what  of  it.     He's 

got  you  just  where  he  wants  you.    You'll  walk  turkey 

from  now  on,  according  to  his  orders.     If  there's  any 

dirty  work  to  be  done  you'll  do  it.     You  squeal  or 

[80] 


MORRISON     TACKLES    A    MAN 

you  kick,  and  he'll  start  the  whole  slide  and  bury 
you." 

"  I'm  not  obliged  to  do  any  dirty  work  for  him  or 
any  other  man.  Not  even  for  you.  I  can  quit." 

"And  get  another  job?"  Morrison  asked,  mock 
ingly. 

"  That's  what." 

"Let  me  just  point  out  a  few  things.  You  get 
mad  and  quit.  Call  for  your  time.  Pack  your  turkey 
and  go  to  another  mill.  They  will  ask  your  name. 
Then,  '  Excuse  me  a  minute.'  Then  they'll  go  to  a 
little  book,  and  they'll  find  something  like  this, 
'  Henry  Luna,  mill  man,  foreman  Rainbow  mill. 
Richard  Firmstone,  superintendent.  Discharged  on 
account  of  stealing  ore  from  the  mill.'  Then  they'll 
come  back.  '  No  place  for  you,  Mr.  Luna,'  and  you'll 
go  on  till  hell  freezes,  and  that  little  record  of  yours 
will  knock  you,  every  clip.  When  you  wear  the  skin 
off  your  feet,  and  the  shirt  off  your  back,  you'll  come 
back  to  the  Rainbow,  and  Mr.  Firmstone  will  politely 
tell  you  that,  if  you've  walked  the  kick  out  of  you, 
he'll  give  you  another  try." 

Luna  was  open-eyed.  He  had  grasped  but  one 
thing. 

"  What  little  book  are  you  talking  about  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  It's  known  as  the  Black  List,  little  Iambic.  You'll 
know  more  about  it  if  you  keep  on.  Every  company 
[81] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

in  Colorado  or  in  the  United  States  has  one.  You'll 
run  up  against  it,  all  right,  if  you  keep  on." 

Luna  had  vague  ideas  of  this  powerful  weapon ; 
but  it  had  never  seemed  so  real  before.  He  was  grow 
ing  suspicious.  He  recalled  Firmstone's  words,  "  I've 
told  you  a  good  deal,  but  not  all  by  a  good  long 
measure."  They  had  seemed  simple  and  straight 
forward  at  the  time,  but  Morrison's  juggling  was 
hazing  them. 

"  What's  a  fellow  to  do?  "  he  asked,  helplessly. 

"  Nothing  alone,  except  to  take  what's  given  you. 
You  stand  alone,  and  you'll  be  cut  alone,  worked  over 
time  alone,  kicked  alone,  and,  when  it  gets  unendur 
able,  starve  alone.  But,  if  you've  got  any  sense  or 
sand,  don't  stand  alone  to  get  kicked  and  cuffed  and 
robbed  by  a  company  or  by  a  bunch  of  companies. 
Meet  union  with  union,  strength  with  strength,  and, 
if  worst  comes  to  worst,  fight  with  fight.  Us  working- 
men  have  things  in  our  own  hands,  if  we  stand  to 
gether."  Morrison  was  watching  the  foreman  nar 
rowly.  "  And  there's  another  thing.  When  a  long- 
toothed,  sharp-nosed,  glass-eyed  company  bull-dog 
puts  up  a  padded  deck  on  a  workingman,  he'll  have 
the  backing  of  the  union  to  put  him  down." 

"  The  union  ain't  going  to  take  up  no  private 
grievance?  "  Luna  spoke,  half  quest ioningly. 

"  They  ain't,  heh?  What's  it  for,  then?  Bunch 
ing  us  up  so  they  can  pick  us  off  one  by  one,  without 
[82] 


MORRISON  TACKLES  A  MAN 
hunting  us  out  like  a  flock  of  sheep.  That  ain't  the 
union."  Morrison  paused,  looking  keenly  at  Luna. 
"  There's  no  use  scattering.  There's  nothing  as  skit 
tish  as  a  pocketful  of  dollars  in  a  dress  suit.  If  there's 
a  grievance,  private  or  common,  go  to  the  company 
in  a  bunch.  Remonstrate.  If  that  don't  work,  strike, 
fight,  boycott!  No  weapons?  The  poor  man's  dol 
lar  will  buy  rifles  and  cartridges  as  quick  as  a  rich 
man's  checks.  We've  got  this  advantage,  too.  Rich 
men  have  to  hire  men  to  fight  for  them ;  but,  by  God, 
we  can  fight  for  ourselves !  " 

Luna's  thick  wits  were  vibrating  betwixt  fear  and 
vengeance.  He  had  all  the  ignorant  man's  fear  of 
superior  brains,  all  the  coward's  sneaking  resentment 
of  a  fancied  imposition.  He  could  see  that  fear  had 
blinded  his  eyes  to  the  real  but  covert  threat  of  Firm- 
stone's  words.  Here  was  his  chance  to  free  himself 
from  Firmstone's  clutches.  Here  his  chance  for  re 
venge. 

Morrison  was  watching  him  closely. 

"  Are  you  with  us,  or  are  you  going  down  alone?  " 

Luna  held  out  his  hand. 

"  I'm  with  you,  you  bet !  " 

"  Come  up  to  the  Blue  Goose  some  night  when 
you're  on  day-shift.  We'll  talk  things  over  with 
Pierre." 

Then  they  parted. 

[83] 


CHAPTER     VIII 

Madame  Seeks  Counsel 

THERE  are  many  evil  things  in  the  world 
which  are  best  obviated  by  being  let  severely 
alone. 

The  clumsy-minded  Hercules  had  to  be  taught  this 
fact.  Tradition  relates  that  at  one  time  he  met  an  in 
significant-looking  toad  in  his  path  which  he  would 
have  passed  by  in  disdain  had  it  not  been  for  its  par 
ticularly  ugly  appearance.  Thinking  to  do  the  world 
a  service  by  destroying  it  he  thumped  the  reptile  with 
his  club,  when,  to  his  surprise,  instead  of  being  crushed 
by  the  impact,  the  beast  grew  co  twice  its  former  size. 
Repeated  and  heavier  blows  only  multiplied  its  di 
mensions  and  ugliness,  until  at  length  the  thoroughly 
frightened  hero  divested  himself  of  his  clothing  with 
the  intention  of  putting  an  end  to  his  antagonist.  His 
formidable  club  was  again  raised,  but  before  it  could 
descend,  he  was  counselled  to  wait.  This  he  did,  and 
to  his  greater  surprise  the  ugly  beast  began  to  shrink, 
and  finally  disappeared. 

Pierre  had  no  convenient  goddess  to  instruct  him 
in  critical  moments,  so  he  depended  on  his  own  wit. 
[84] 


MADAME     SEEKS     COUNSEL 

Of  this  he  had  inherited  a  liberal  portion,  and  this 
by  diligent  cultivation  had  been  added  to  manyfold. 
So  it  happened  that  after  Madame's  surprising  exhi 
bition  of  an  unsuspected  will  of  her  own,  and  her  dec 
laration  of  her  intention  to  enforce  it,  Pierre  had 
studiously  let  her  alone. 

This  course  of  action  was  as  surprising  to  Madame 
as  it  was  disconcerting.  The  consequences  were  such 
as  her  wily  husband  had  foreseen.  Encountering  no 
externally  resisting  medium,  its  force  was  wasted  by 
internal  attrition,  so  that  Madame  was  being  reduced 
to  a  nervous  wreck,  all  of  which  was  duly  appreciated 
by  Pierre. 

This  particular  instance,  being  expanded  into  a 
general  law,  teaches  us  that  oftentimes  the  nimble  wit 
of  an  agile  villain  prevails  against  the  clumsy  brains 
of  a  lofty-minded  hero. 

Madame  had  had  long  years  of  patient  endurance 
to  train  her  in  waiting;  but  the  endurance  had  been 
passive  and  purposeless,  rather  than  active,  and  with 
a  well-defined  object.  Now  that  an  object  was  to  be 
attained  by  action  the  lessons  of  patient  endurance 
counted  for  naught.  Instead  of  determined  action 
against  her  open  revolt,  Pierre  had  been  smilingly 
obsequious  and  non-resisting. 

She  knew  very  well  that  Pierre  had  been  neither 
cowed  into  submission  nor  frightened  from  his  pur 
pose;  but  his  policy  of  non-interference  puzzled  and 
[85] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

terrified  her.  She  knew  not  at  what  moment  he  might 
confront  her  with  a  move  that  she  would  have  neither 
time  nor  power  to  check.  In  this  state  of  mind  day 
after  day  passed  by  with  wearing  regularity.  She 
felt  the  time  going,  every  moment  fraught  with  the 
necessity  of  action,  but  without  the  slightest  sug 
gestion  as  to  what  she  ought  to  do.  Pierre's  toast 
might  be  burned  to  a  crisp,  his  eggs  scorched,  or  his 
coffee  muddy,  but  there  was  no  word  of  complaint. 
Regular  or  irregular  hours  for  meals  were  passed 
over  with  the  same  discomposing  smiles.  She  did  not 
dare  unburden  her  mind  to  Elise,  for  fear  of  letting 
drop  some  untimely  word  which  would  immediately 
precipitate  the  impending  crisis.  For  the  first  time 
in  her  life  Elise  was  subjected  to  petulant  words  and 
irritating  repulses  by  the  sorely  perplexed  woman. 

One  evening,  after  a  particularly  trying  day  dur 
ing  which  Elise  had  been  stung  into  biting  retorts, 
an  inspiration  came  to  Madame  that  rolled  every 
threatening  cloud  from  her  mind. 

The  next  morning,  after  long  waiting,  Pierre  came 
to  the  dining-room,  but  found  neither  breakfast  nor 
Madame,  and  for  the  best  of  reasons.  With  the  first 
grey  light  of  morning,  Madame  had  slipped  from 
the  door  of  the  Blue  Goose,  and  before  the  sun  had 
gilded  the  head  of  Ballard  Mountain  she  was  far  up 
the  trail  that  led  to  the  Inferno. 

Zephyr  was  moving  deliberately  about  a  little  fire 
[86] 


MADAME     SEEKS     COUNSEL 

on  which  his  breakfast  was  cooking,  pursing  his  lips 
in  meditative  whistles,  or  engaged  in  audible  discus 
sion  with  himself  on  the  various  topics  which  floated 
through  his  mind.  An  unusual  clatter  of  displaced 
rocks  brought  his  dialogue  to  a  sudden  end;  a  sharp 
look  down  the  trail  shrank  his  lips  to  a  low  whistle; 
the  sight  of  a  hard  knob  of  dingy  hair,  strained  back 
from  a  pair  of  imploring  eyes  fringed  by  colourless 
lashes,  swept  his  hat  from  his  head,  and  sent  him  clat 
tering  down  to  Madame  with  outstretched  hands. 

"  You're  right,  Madame.  You're  on  the  right  trail, 
and  it's  but  little  farther.  It's  rather  early  for  St. 
Peter,  it's  likely  he's  taking  his  beauty  sleep  yet; 
but  I'll  see  that  it's  broken,  unless  you  have  a  private 
key  to  the  Golden  Gates,  which  you  deserve,  if  you 
haven't  got  it."  His  address  of  welcome  had  brought 
him  to  Madame's  side. 

Her  only  reply  was  a  bewildered  gaze,  as  she  took 
his  hands.  With  his  help  she  soon  reached  the  camp, 
and  seated  herself  in  a  rude  chair  which  Zephyr  placed 
for  her. 

Zephyr,  having  seen  to  the  comfort  of  his  guest, 
returned  to  his  neglected  breakfast. 

"  It  takes  a  pretty  cute  angel  to  catch  me  un 
awares,"  he  glanced  at  Madame ;  "  but  you've  got  the 
drop  on  me  this  time.  Come  from  an  unexpected  di 
rection,  too.  I've  heard  tell  of  Jacob's  vision  of  an 
gels  passing  up  and  down,  but  I  mostly  allowed  it  was 
[87] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

a  pipe  dream.  I  shall  have  to  annotate  my  ideas 
again,  which  is  no  uncommon  experience,  statements 
to  the  contrary  notwithstanding."  Zephyr  paused 
from  his  labours  and  looked  inquiringly  at  Madame. 

Madame  made  no  reply.  Her  bewildered  calm  be 
gan  to  break  before  the  apparent  necessity  of  saying 
or  doing  something.  Not  having  a  clear  perception 
of  the  fitting  thing  in  either  case,  she  took  refuge  in 
a  copious  flood  of  tears. 

Zephyr  offered  no  impediment  to  the  flow,  either  by 
word  or  act.  He  was  not  especially  acquainted  with 
the  ways  of  women,  but  being  a  close  observer  of  nat 
ure  and  an  adept  at  reasoning  from  analogy,  he  as 
sumed  that  a  sudden  storm  meant  equally  sudden 
clearing,  so  he  held  his  peace  and,  for  once,  his  whistle. 

Zephyr's  reasoning  was  correct.  Madame's  tears 
dried  almost  as  suddenly  as  they  had  started.  Zephyr 
had  filled  a  cup  with  coffee,  and  he  tendered  it  defer 
entially  to  Madame. 

"  A  peaceful  stomach  favours  a  placid  mind,"  he 
remarked,  casually ;  "  which  is  an  old  observation  that 
doesn't  show  its  age.  From  which  I  infer  that  it  has 
a  solid  foundation  of  truth." 

Madame  hesitatingly  reached  for  the  proffered  cof 
fee,  then  she  thought  better  of  it,  and,  much  to 
Zephyr's  surprise,  again  let  loose  the  fountains  of 
her  tears.  Zephyr  glanced  upward  with  a  cocking 
eye,  then  down  the  steep  pass  to  where  the  broken  line 
[88] 


MADAME     SEEKS     COUNSEL 

of  rock  dropped  sheer  into  Rainbow  Gulch  where  lay 
Pandora  and  the  Blue  Goose. 

"  About  this  time  look  for  unsettled  weather,"  he 
whispered  to  himself.  Zephyr  had  dropped  analogy 
and  was  reasoning  from  cold  facts.  He  was  thinking 
of  Elise. 

Tears  often  clear  the  mind,  as  showers  the  air,  and 
Madame's  tears,  with  Zephyr's  calm,  were  rapidly 
having  a  salubrious  effect.  This  time  she  not  only 
reached  for  the  coffee  on  her  own  initiative,  but,  what 
was  more  to  the  purpose,  drank  it.  She  even  ate  some 
of  the  food  Zephyr  placed  before  her. 

Zephyr  noted  with  approval. 

"  Rising  barometer,  with  freshening  winds,  grow 
ing  brisk,  clearing  weather." 

Madame  looked  up  at  Zephyr's  almost  inaudible 
words. 

"  How  ?  "  she  ventured,  timidly. 

"  That's  a  fair  question,"  Zephyr  remarked,  com 
posedly.  "  The  fact  is,  I  get  used  to  talking  to  my 
self  and  answering  a  fool  according  to  his  folly.  It's 
hard  sledding  to  keep  up.  You  see,  a  fellow  that  gets 
into  his  store  clothes  only  once  a  year  or  so  don't 
know  where  to  hang  his  thumbs." 

Madame  looked  somewhat  puzzled,  began  a  stam 
mering  reply,  then,  dropping  her  useless  efforts,  came 
to  her  point  at  once. 

"  It's  about  Elise." 

[89] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

Zephyr  answered  as  directly  as  Madame  had 
spoken. 

"Is  Elise  in  trouble?" 

"  Yes.  I  don't  know  what  to  do."  Madame  paused 
and  looked  expectantly  at  Zephyr. 

"  Pierre  wants  her  to  marry  that  Morrison  ?  " 

Madame  gave  a  sigh  of  relief.  There  was  no  sur 
prise  in  her  face. 

"  Pierre  says  she  shall  not  go  to  school  and  learn 
to  despise  him  and  me.  He  says  she  will  learn  to  be 
ashamed  of  us  before  her  grand  friends.  Do  you 
think  she  will  ever  be  ashamed  of  me?  "  There  was 
a  yearning  look  in  the  uncomplaining  eyes. 

Zephyr  looked  meditatively  at  the  fire,  pursed  his 
lips,  and,  deliberately  thrusting  his  hand  into  the 
bosom  of  his  shirt,  drew  forth  his  harmonica.  He 
softly  blew  forth  a  few  bars  of  a  plaintive  melody, 
then,  taking  the  instrument  from  his  lips,  began  to 
speak,  without  raising  his  eyes. 

"  If  my  memory  serves  me  right,  I  used  to  know 
a  little  girl  on  a  big  ranch  who  had  a  large  following 
of  beasts  and  birds  that  had  got  into  various  kinds  of 
trouble,  owing  to  their  limitations  as  such.  I  also 
remember  that  that  same  little  girl  on  several  appro 
priate  occasions  banged  hell — if  you  will  excuse  a 
bad  word  for  the  sake  of  good  emphasis — out  of  two- 
legged  beasts  for  abusing  their  superior  kind.  Who 
would  fly  at  the  devil  to  protect  a  broken-winged  gos- 
[90] 


MADAME     SEEKS     COUNSEL 

ling.  Who  would  coax  rainbows  out  of  alkali  water 
and  sweet-scented  flowers  out  of  hot  sand.  My  more 
recent  memory  seems  to  put  it  up  to  me  that  this  same 
little  girl,  with  more  years  on  her  head  and  a  grow 
ing  heart  under  her  ribs,  has  sat  up  many  nights  with 
sick  infants,  and  fought  death  from  said  infants  to 
the  great  joy  of  their  owners.  From  which  I  infer, 
if  by  any  chance  said  little  girl  should  be  lifted  up 
into  heaven  and  seated  at  the  right  hand  of  God, 
much  trouble  would  descend  upon  the  Holy  Family 
if  Madame  should  want  to  be  near  her  little  Elise, 
and  any  of  the  said  Holies  should  try  to  stand  her 
off." 

Madame  did  not  fully  understand,  but  what  did 
it  matter?  Zephyr  was  on  her  side.  Of  that  she  was 
satisfied.  She  vaguely  gleaned  from  his  words  that, 
in  his  opinion,  Elise  would  always  love  her  and  would 
never  desert  her.  She  hugged  this  comforting 
thought  close  to  her  cramped  soul. 

"  But,"  she  began,  hesitatingly,  "  Pierre  said  that 
she  should  not  go  to  school,  that  she  should  marry 
right  away." 

"  Pierre  is  a  very  hard  shell  with  a  very  small  ker 
nel,"  remarked  Zephyr.  "  Which  means  that  Pierre 
is  going  to  do  what  he  thinks  is  well  for  Elise.  Elise 
has  got  a  pretty  big  hold  on  Pierre." 

"  But  he  promised  her  father  that  he  would  give 
back  Elise  to  her  friends,  and  now  he  says  he  won't." 
[91] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

"  Have  you  told  Elise  that  Pierre  is  not  her  fa 
ther?" 

"No;  I  dare  not." 

"  That's  all  right.  Let  me  try  to  think  out  loud  a 
little.  The  father  and  mother  of  Elise  ran  away  to 
marry.  That  is  why  her  friends  know  nothing  of 
her.  Her  mother  died  before  Elise  was  six  months 
old,  and  her  father  before  she  was  a  yearling.  Pierre 
promised  to  get  Elise  back  to  her  father's  family.  It 
wasn't  just  easy  at  that  time  to  break  through  the 
mountains  and  Injuns  to  Denver.  You  and  Pierre 
waited  for  better  times.  When  better  times  came  you 
both  had  grown  very  fond  of  Elise.  A  year  or  so  would 
make  no  difference  to  those  who  did  not  know.  Now 
Elise  is  sixteen.  Pierre  realizes  that  he  must  make  a 
choice  between  now  and  never.  He's  got  a  very  soft 
spot  in  his  heart  for  Elise.  It's  the  only  one  he  ever 
had,  or  ever  will  have.  Elise  isn't  his.  That  doesn't 
make  very  much  difference.  Pierre  has  never  had  any 
especial  training  in  giving  up  things  he  wants,  simply 
because  they  don't  belong  to  him.  You  haven't  helped 
train  him  otherwise."  Zephyr  glanced  at  Madame. 
Madame's  cheeks  suddenly  glowed,  then  as  suddenly 
paled.  A  faint  thought  of  what  might  have  been 
years  ago  came  and  went.  Zephyr  resumed :  "  As 
long  as  Elise  is  unmarried,  there  is  danger  of  his 
being  compelled  to  give  her  up.  Well,"  Zephyr's 
lips  grew  hard,  "  you  can  set  your  mind  at  rest. 
[92] 


MADAME     SEEKS     COUNSEL 

Elise  isn't  going  to  marry  Morrison,  and  when  the 
proper  time  comes,  which  will  be  soon,  Pierre  is  going 
to  give  her  up." 

Madame  had  yet  one  more  episode  upon  which  she 
needed  light.  She  told  Zephyr  of  Pierre's  threatened 
attack,  and  of  Elise's  holding  him  off  at  the  point 
of  her  revolver.  She  felt,  but  was  not  sure,  that  Elise 
by  her  open  defiance  had  only  sealed  her  fate. 

Zephyr  smiled  appreciatively. 

"  She's  got  her  father's  grit  and  Pierre's  example. 
Her  sense  is  rattling  round  in  her  head,  as  her  non 
sense  is  outside  of  it.  She'll  do  all  right  without  help, 
if  it  comes  to  that ;  but  it  won't." 

Madame  rose,  as  if  to  depart.  Zephyr  waved  her 
to  her  seat. 

"  Not  yet.  You  rest  here  for  a  while.  It's  a  hard 
climb  up  here  and  a  hard  climb  down.  I'll  shake 
things  up  a  little  on  my  prospect.  I'll  be  back  by 
dinner-time." 

He  picked  up  a  hammer  and  drills  and  went  still 
farther  up  the  mountain.  Having  reached  the  In 
ferno,  he  began  his  work.  Perhaps  he  had  no  thought 
of  Jael  or  Sisera;  but  he  smote  his  drill  with  a  de 
termined  emphasis  that  indicated  ill  things  for  Pierre. 
Jael  pinned  the  sleeping  head  of  Sisera  to  the 
earth.  Sleeping  or  waking,  resisting  or  acquiescent, 
Pierre's  head  was  in  serious  danger,  if  it  threatened 
Elise. 

[93] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

Zephyr  loaded  the  hole  and  lighted  the  fuse,  then 
started  for  the  camp.  A  loud  explosion  startled  Ma 
dame  from  the  most  peaceful  repose  she  had  enjoyed 
for  many  a  day. 

After  dinner  Zephyr  saw  Madame  safely  down  the 
worst  of  the  trail. 

"  Pierre  is  not  all  bad,"  he  remarked,  at  parting. 
"  You  just  restez  tranquille  and  don't  worry.  It's 
a  pretty  thick  fog  that  the  sun  can't  break  through, 
and,  furthermore,  a  fog  being  only  limited,  as  it 
were,  and  the  sun  tolerably  persistent,  it's  pretty  apt 
to  get  on  top  at  most  unexpected  seasons." 

Madame  completed  the  remainder  of  her  journey 
with  very  different  emotions  from  those  with  which 
she  had  begun  it.  She  entered  the  back  door  of  the 
Blue  Goose.  Pierre  was  not  in  the  room,  as  she  had 
half  expected,  half  feared.  She  looked  around  anx 
iously,  then  dropped  into  a  chair.  The  pendulum 
changed  its  swing.  She  was  under  the  old  influences 
again.  Zephyr  and  the  mountain-top  were  far 
away.  A  thousand  questions  struggled  in  her  mind. 
Why  had  she  not  thought  of  them  before?  It  was 
no  use.  Again  she  was  groping  for  help.  She  re 
called  a  few  of  Zephyr's  words. 

"  Elise  isn't  going  to  marry  Morrison,  and  Pierre's 
going  to  give  her  up." 

They  did  not  thrill  her  with  hope.  She  could  not 
make  them  do  so  by  oft  repeating.  Confused  rec- 
[94] 


MADAME     SEEKS     COUNSEL 

ollections  crowded  these  few  words  of  hope.  She 
could  not  revivify  them.  She  could  only  cling  to 
them  with  blind,  uncomprehending  trust,  as  the  pray 
ing  mother  clings  to  the  leaden  crucifix. 


[95] 


CHAPTER    IX 

The  Meeting  at  the  Blue  Goose 

AN  algebraic  formula  is  very  fascinating,  but 
at  the  same  time  it  is  very  dangerous.  The 
oft-times  repeated  assumption  that  x  plus 
y  equals  a  leads  ultimately  to  the  fixed  belief  that  a 
is  an  attainable  result,  whatever  values  may  be  as 
signed  to  the  other  factors.  If  we  assign  concrete 
dollars  to  the  abstract  x  and  y,  a  theoretically  be 
comes  concrete  dollars  as  well.  But  immediately  we 
do  this,  another  factor  known  as  the  personal  equa 
tion  calls  for  cards,  and  from  then  on  insists  upon 
sitting  in  the  game.  Simple  algebra  no  longer  suf 
fices;  calculus,  differential  as  well  as  integral,  enters 
into  our  problem,  and  if  we  can  succeed  in  fencing 
out  quaternions,  to  say  nothing  of  the  nth  dimen 
sion,  we  may  consider  ourselves  fortunate. 

Pierre  was  untrained  in  algebra,  to  say  nothing  of 
higher  mathematics ;  but  it  is  a  legal  maxim  that  ig 
norance  of  the  law  excuses  no  one,  and  this  dictum 
is  equally  applicable  to  natural  and  to  human  stat 
utes.  Pierre  assumed  very  naturally  that  five  dollars 
[96] 


MEETING    AT    THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

plus  five  dollars  equals  ten  dollars,  and  dollars  were 
what  he  was  after.  He  went  even  further.  Without 
stating  the  fact,  he  felt  instinctively  that,  if  he 
could  tip  the  one-legged  plus  to  the  more  stable 
two-legged  sign  of  multiplication,  the  result  would 
be  twenty-five  dollars  instead  of  ten.  He  knew  that 
dollars  added  to,  or  multiplied  by,  dollars  made 
wealth;  but  he  failed  to  comprehend  that  wealth  was 
a  variable  term  with  no  definite,  assignable  value.  In 
other  words,  he  never  knew,  nor  ever  would  know, 
when  he  had  enough. 

Pierre  had  started  in  life  with  the  questionable  am 
bition  of  becoming  rich.  As  foreman  on  a  ranch  at 
five  dollars  a  day  and  found,  he  was  reasonably  con 
tented  with  simple  addition.  On  the  sudden  death  of 
his  employer  he  was  left  in  full  charge,  with  no  one  to 
call  him  to  account,  and  addition  became  more  fre 
quent  and  with  larger  sums.  His  horizon  widened,  the 
Rainbow  mine  was  opened,  and  the  little  town  of  Pan 
dora  sprang  into  existence.  Three  hundred  workmen, 
with  unlimited  thirst  and  a  passion  for  gaming,  sug 
gested  multiplication,  and  Pierre  moved  from  the 
ranch  to  the  Blue  Goose.  Had  he  fixed  upon  a  defini 
tion  of  wealth  and  adhered  to  it,  a  few  years  at  the 
Blue  Goose  would  have  left  him  satisfied.  As  it  was, 
his  ideas  grew  faster  than  his  legitimate  opportunities. 
The  miners  were  no  more  content  with  their  wages 
than  he  with  his  gains,  and  so  ?t  happened  that  an 
[97] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

underground  retort  was  added  to  the  above-ground 
bar  and  roulette.  The  bar  and  roulette  had  the  sanc 
tion  of  law;  the  retort  was  existing  in  spite  of  it. 
The  bar  and  roulette  took  care  of  themselves,  and  in 
cidentally  of  Pierre;  but  with  the  retort,  the  case 
was  different.  Pierre  had  to  look  out  for  himself  as 
well  as  the  furnace.  As  proprietor  of  a  saloon, 
his  garnered  dollars  brought  with  them  the  protec 
tion  of  the  nine  points  of  the  law — possession ;  the 
tenth  was  never  in  evidence. 

As  a  vender  of  gold  bullion,  with  its  possession,  the 
nine  points  made  against  rather  than  for  him.  As  for 
the  tenth,  at  its  best  it  only  offered  an  opportunity 
for  explanation  which  the  law  affords  the  most  ob 
viously  guilty. 

Morrison  allowed  several  days  to  pass  after  his 
interview  with  Luna  before  acquainting  Pierre  with 
the  failure  to  land  their  plunder.  The  disclosure 
might  have  been  delayed  even  longer  had  not  Pierre 
made  some  indirect  inquiries.  Pierre  had  taken  the 
disclosure  in  a  very  different  manner  from  what  Mor 
rison  had  expected.  Morrison,  as  has  been  set  forth, 
was  a  very  slick  bird,  but  he  was  not  remarkable  for 
his  sagacity.  His  cunning  had  influenced  him  to  re 
pel,  with  an  assumption  of  ignorance,  Luna's  broad 
hints  of  guilty  complicity;  but  his  sagacity  failed 
utterly  to  comprehend  Pierre's  more  cunning  silence. 
Pierre  was  actively  acquainted  with  Morrison's  weak 
[98] 


MEETING   AT    THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

points,  and  while  he  ceased  not  to  flatter  them  he 
never  neglected  to  gather  rewards  for  his  labour.  If 
the  fabled  crow  had  had  the  wit  to  swallow  his  cheese 
before  he  began  to  sing  he  would  at  least  have  had 
a  full  stomach  to  console  himself  for  being  duped. 
This  is  somewhat  prognostical ;  but  even  so,  it  is 
not  safe  to  jump  too  far.  It  sometimes  happens 
that  the  fox  and  the  crow  become  so  mutually 
engrossed  as  to  forget  the  possibility  of  a  man  and 
a  gun. 

Late  this  particular  evening  Luna  entered  the  Blue 
Goose,  and  having  paid  tribute  at  the  bar,  was  guided 
by  the  knowing  winks  and  nods  of  Morrison  into 
Pierre's  private  club-room,  where  Morrison  himself 
soon  followed. 

Morrison  opened  the  game  at  once. 

"  That  new  supe  at  the  Rainbow  is  getting  pretty 
fly."  He  apparently  addressed  Pierre. 

Pierre  bowed,  in  smiling  acquiescence. 

"  Our  little  game  is  going  to  come  to  an  end  pretty 
soon,  too." 

"  To  what  li'l  game  you  refer?  "  Pierre  inquired, 
blandly.  Pierre  did  not  mind  talking  frankly  with 
one;  with  two  he  weighed  his  words. 

Morrison  made  an  impatient  gesture. 

"  You  know.  I  told  you  about  the  old  man's  get 
ting  back  that  ore." 

Pierre  rubbed  his  hands  softly. 
[99] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

"  Meestaire  Firmstone,  he's  smooth  stuff,  ver' 
smooth  stuff." 

"  He's  getting  too  smooth,"  interrupted  Luna. 
"  I  don't  mind  a  supe's  looking  out  for  his  com 
pany.  That's  what  he's  paid  for.  But  when  he 
begins  putting  up  games  on  the  men,  that's  another 
matter,  and  I  don't  propose  to  stand  it.  Not  for  my 
part." 

"He's  not  bin  populaire  wiz  ze  boy?"  inquired 
Pierre. 

"  No." 

Pierre  chuckled  softly. 

"  He  keeps  too  much  ze  glass-eye  on  ze  plate,  on 
ze  stamp,  heh?  " 

"  That's  not  all." 

"  No,"  Pierre  continued ;  "  he  mek  ze  sample ;  he 
mek  ze  assay,  hall  ze  time." 

"  That's  not  all,  either.     He " 

"  A — a — ah !  He  bin  mek  ze  viseete  in  ze  mill  in  ze 
night,  all  hour,  any  hour.  Ze  boy  can't  sleep,  bin 
keep  awake,  bin  keep  ze  han' — "  Pierre  winked  know 
ingly,  making  a  scoop  with  his  hand,  and  thrusting 
it  into  his  pocket. 

Luna  grinned. 

"At  ze  mine  ze  boy  get  two  stick  powdaire,  four 
candle,  all  day,  eh?  No  take  ten,  fifteen  stick,  ten, 
fifteen  candle,  use  two,  four,  sell  ze  res'?"  Pierre 
again  winked  smilingly. 

[100] 


MEETING    AT    THE    BLUJE    G0C)SE 

"  You're  sizing  it  up  all  right." 

"  Bien!  I  tol'  you.  Ze  hoi'  man,  he's  bin  hall 
right.  I  tol'  you  look  out.  Bimeby  I  tol'  you  again. 
Goslow.  Da's  hall." 

Morrison  was  getting  impatient. 

"  What's  the  use  of  barking  our  shins,  climbing 
for  last  year's  birds'  nests?  The  facts  are  just  as 
I  told  you.  The  old  man's  getting  too  fly.  The  boys 
are  getting  tired  of  it.  The  question  is,  how  are  we 
going  to  stop  him?  If  we  can't  stop  him  can  we  get 
rid  of  him?" 

"  I  can  tell  you  one  way  to  stop  him,  and  get  rid 
of  him  at  the  same  time,"  Luna  broke  in. 

"  How  is  that?  "  asked  Morrison. 

"  Cut  the  cable  when  he  goes  up  on  the  tram." 

"  Will  you  take  the  job?  "  Morrison  asked,  sar 
castically. 

Luna's  enthusiasm  waned  under  the  question. 

"  Such  things  have  happened." 

"  Some  odder  tings  also  happens."  Pierre  slipped 
an  imaginary  rope  around  his  neck. 

Morrison  passed  the  remark  and  started  in  on  a 
line  of  his  own. 

"  I've  been  telling  Luna  and  some  of  the  other 
boys  what  I  think.  I  don't  mind  their  making  a 
little  on  the  side.  It's  no  more  than  they  deserve,  and 
the  company  can  stand  it.  It  doesn't  amount  to  much, 
anvway.  But  what  I  do  kick  about  is  this  everlasting 
[101] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

spying  around  all  the  time.  It's  enough  to  make  a 
thief  out  of  an  honest  man.  If  you  put  a  man  on 
his  honour,  he  isn't  going  to  sleep  on  shift,  even  if 
the  supe  doesn't  come  in  on  him,  every  hour  of  the 
night.  Anyway,  a  supe  ought  to  know  when  a  man 
does  a  day's  work.  Isn't  that  so?  "  He  looked  at 
Luna. 

"  That's  right,  every  time." 

"  Then  there's  another  point.  A  man  has  some 
rights  of  his  own,  if  he  does  work  for  $3  a  day.  The 
old  man  is  all  the  time  posting  notices  at  the  mine  and 
at  the  mill.  He  tells  men  what  days  they  can  get  their 
pay,  and  what  days  they  can't.  If  a  man  quits,  he's 
got  to  take  a  time-check  that  isn't  worth  face,  till 
pay-day.  Now  what  I  want  to  know  is  this :  Haven't 
the  men  just  as  good  a  right  to  post  notices  as  the 
company  has  ?  "  Morrison  was  industriously  address 
ing  Pierre,  but  talking  at  Luna.  Pierre  made  no  re 
sponse,  so  Luna  spoke  instead. 

"  I've  been  thinking  the  same  thing.'? 

Morrison  turned  to  Luna. 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you.  You  fellows  don't  know  your 
rights.  When  you  work  eight  hours  the  company 
owes  you  three  dollars.  You  have  a  right  to  your 
full  pay  any  time  you  want  to  ask  for  it.  Do  you  get 
it?  Not  much.  The  company  says  pay-day  is  the 
15th  of  every  month.  You  have  nothing  to  say  about 
it.  You  begin  to  work  the  first  of  one  month.  At 
[102] 


MEETING   AT    THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

the  end  of  the  month  the  company  makes  up  the 
pay-roll.  On  the  15th  you  get  pay  for  last 
month's  work.  The  15th,  suppose  you  want  to  quit. 
You  ask  for  your  time.  Do  you  get  your  pay  for 
the  fifteen  days?  Not  much.  They  give  you  a  time- 
check.  If  you'll  wait  thirty  days  you'll  get  a  bank- 
check  or  cash,  just  as  they  choose.  Suppose  you  want 
your  money  right  away,  do  you  get  it?"  Morrison 
looked  fixedly  at  Luna. 

Luna  shook  his  head  in  reply. 

"  Of  course  not.  What  do  you  do  ?  Why,  you  go 
to  a  bank,  and  if  the  company's  good  the  bank  will 
discount  your  check — one,  two,  three,  or  five  per  cent. 
Your  time  amounts  to  $60,  less  board.  The  bank 
gives  you,  instead  of  $60,  $57,  which  means  that 
you  put  in  one  hard  day's  work  to  get  what's  your 
due." 

"  The  law's  done  away  with  time-checks,"  objected 
Luna. 

"  Oh,  yes,  so  it  has.  Says  you  must  be  paid  in 
full."  Morrison  called  on  all  his  sarcasm  to  add  em 
phasis  to  his  words.  "  So  the  company  complies  with 
the  law.  It  writes  out  a  bank-check  for  $60,  but 
dates  it  thirty  days  ahead,  so  the  bank  gets  in  its  work, 
just  the  same." 

Luna  glanced  cunningly  from  Morrison  to 
Pierre. 

"  It  strikes  me  that  the  Blue  Goose  isn't  giving 
[103] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

the  bank  a  fair  show.  I  never  cashed  in  at  the 
bank." 

"  What  time  ze  bank  open,  eh  ?  "  Pierre  asked,  lan 
guidly. 

"  Ten  to  four."    Luna  looked  a  trifle  puzzled. 

"  Bienl    Sunday  an'  ze  holiday  ?  "  pursued  Pierre. 

"  'Tain't  open  at  all." 

"  Tres  bien!  Ze  Blue  Goose,  she  mek  open  hall  ze 
time,  day,  night,  Sunday,  holiday." 

"  Well,  you  get  paid  for  it,"  answered  Luna,  dog 
gedly. 

"  Oh,  that  isn't  all,"  Morrison  interrupted,  impa 
tiently.  "  I  just  give  you  this  as  one  example.  I 
can  bring  up  a  thousand.  You  know  them  as  well  as 
I  do.  There's  no  use  going  over  the  whole  wash." 
There  was  no  reply.  Morrison  went  on,  "  There's 
no  use  saying  anything  about  short  time,  either.  You 
keep  your  own  time;  but  what  does  that  amount  to? 
You  take  what  the  company  gives  you.  Of  course, 
the  law  will  take  your  time  before  the  company's; 
but  what  does  that  amount  to  ?  Just  this :  You're  two 
or  three  dollars  shy  on  your  time.  You  go  to  law 
about  it,  and  you'll  get  your  two  or  three  dollars ;  but 
it  will  cost  you  ten  times  as  much;  besides,  you'll  be 
blacklisted.'' 

It  may  appear  that  Morrison  was  training  an  able- 
bodied  Gatling  on  a  very  small  corporal's  guard,  and 
so  wasting  his  ammunition.  The  fact  is,  Morrison 
[104] 


MEETING    AT    THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

was  an  active  dynamo  to  which  Luna,  as  an  exhausted 
battery,  was  temporarily  attached.  Mr.  Morrison 
felt  very  sure  that  if  Luna  were  properly  charged  he 
would  increase  to  a  very  large  extent  the  radius  of 
dynamic  activity. 

Inwardly  Pierre  was  growing  a  little  restless  over 
Morrison's  zeal.  It  was  perfectly  true  that  in  the 
matter  of  paying  the  men  the  company  was  enforcing 
an  arbitrary  rule  that  practically  discounted  by  a 
small  per  cent,  the  men's  wages;  but  the  men  had 
never  objected.  Understanding  the  reason,  they  had 
never  even  considered  it  an  injustice.  There  was  no 
bank  at  Pandora,  and  it  was  not  a  very  safe  pro 
ceeding  for  a  company,  even,  to  carry  a  large  amount 
of  cash.  Besides,  the  men  knew  very  well  that  the 
discount  did  not  benefit  the  company  in  the  least.  An 
enforcement  of  the  law  would  interfere  with  Pierre's 
business.  If  Pierre  found  no  butter  on  one  side  of  his 
toast,  he  was  accustomed  to  turn  it  over  and  examine 
the  other  side  before  he  made  a  row.  Recalling  the 
fact  that  last  impressions  are  the  strongest,  he  pro- 
cedeed  to  take  a  hand  himself.  He  turned  blandly 
to  Luna. 

"  How  long  you  bin  work  in  ze  mill  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  About  a  year." 

"  You  get  ze  check  every  month  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes ;  of  course." 

"  How  much  he  bin  discount?  " 
[105] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

«  Nothing." 

"  Bien!     You  mek  ze  kick  for  noddings  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  remarked  Luna.  "  The 
way  I  size  it  up,  that's  about  all  that's  coming  my 
way.  It's  kick  or  nothing." 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  called  Morrison. 

The  door  swung  open,  and  the  mine  foreman  en 
tered. 

"Why,  howdy,  Jim?  You're  just  the  fellow 
we've  been  waiting  for.  How's  things  at  the 
mine?  " 

"  Damned  if  I  know !  "  replied  Jim,  tossing  his  hat 
on  the  floor.  "  The  old  man's  in  the  mix-up,  so  I 
don't  know  how  much  I'm  supposed  to  know." 

"  What  are  you  supposed  to  know  ?  "  Morrison 
was  asking  leading  questions. 

"  Well,  for  one  thing,  I'm  supposed  to  know  when 
a  man's  doing  a  day's  work." 

"Well,  don't  you?" 

"  Not  according  to  the  old  man.  He  snoops  around 
and  tells  me  that  this  fellow's  shirking,  and  to  push 
him  up ;  that  that  fellow's  not  timbering  right,  doesn't 
know  his  business,  that  I'd  better  fire  him;  that  the 
gang  driving  on  Four  are  soldiering,  that  I'd  better 
contract  it." 

"Contract  it,  eh?" 

"  Yes." 

[106] 


MEETING   AT    THE   BLUE    GOOSE 

"Did  you?" 

"I  had  to!" 

"  How  are  the  contractors  making  out?" 

"  Kicking  like  steers ;  say  they  ain't  making 
wages." 

"  Who  measures  up  ?  " 

"  The  old  man,  of  course." 

"  Uses  his  own  tape  and  rod,  eh?  " 

"Yes.     Why?" 

"  Oh,  nothing;  only,  if  I  were  you,  I'd  just  look 
over  his  measures.  You  never  heard  of  tapes  that 
measured  thirteen  inches  to  the  foot,  did  you?  Nor 
of  rods  that  made  a  hole  three  feet,  when  it  was 
four?" 

"  What  are  you  feeding  us  ?  "  the  foreman  asked, 
in  surprise. 

"  Pap.   You're  an  infant.    So's  the  gang  of  you." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Just  this."  Morrison  looked  wearied.  "  Thir 
teen  inches  to  the  foot  means  eight  and  one-third  feet 
to  the  hundred.  That  is,  it's  likely  the  contractors 
are  doing  one  hundred  and  eight  feet  and  four 
inches,  and  getting  pay  for  a  hundred.  No  wonder 
they're  kicking.  That's  $75  to  the  good  for  the 
company." 

"  I  never  thought  of  that,"  replied  the  fore 
man. 

"  I  don't  know  that  it's  to  be  wondered  at,"  an- 
[107] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

swered  Morrison.  "  After  a  man's  pounded  steel  all 
day  and  got  his  head  full  of  powder  smoke,  he's  too 
tired  and  sick  to  think  of  anything.  How  are  you 
coming  on  with  the  organisation?" 

"  Oh,  all  right.  Most  of  the  boys  will  come  in  all 
right.  Some  are  standing  off,  though.  Say  they'd 
as  soon  be  pinched  by  the  company  as  bled  by  the 
union." 

"  Oh,  well,  don't  trouble  them  too  much.  We'll 
attend  to  them  later  on.  It's  going  to  be  a  bad  climate 
for  scabs  when  we  get  our  working  clothes  on." 

"  It  means  a  strike  to  get  them  out." 

To  this  sentiment  Luna  acquiesced  with  an  em 
phatic  nod. 

"Strike!"  ejaculated  Morrison.  "That's  just 
what  we  will  do,  and  pretty  soon,  too !  "  He  was  still 
smarting  with  the  memory  of  Bennie's  words. 

Pierre  again  took  a  hand. 

"  Who  mek  ze  troub',  h'eh  ?  Meestaire  Firmstone, 
I  bin  tol'  you  he's  smooth  stuff,  ver'  smooth  stuff. 
You  mek  ze  strike.  P'quoi?  Mek  Meestaire  Firm- 
stone  quit,  eh?  Bien!  You  mek  ze  strike,  you  mek 
Meestaire  Firmstone  keep  his  job.  P'quoi?  Ze  com 
pany  say  Meestaire  Firmstone  one  good  man ;  he 
mek  ze  boy  kick.  Bien!  Meester  Firmstone,  he 
stay." 

"  He'll  stay,  anyway,"  growled  Morrison,  "  unless 
we  can  get  him  out." 

[108] 


MEETING    AT    THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

Pierre  shook  his  head  softly. 

"  Ze  strike  mek  him  to  stay." 

"What  do  you  propose,  then?"  asked  Morrison, 
impatiently. 

"  Meestaire  Jim  at  ze  mine  bin  foreman.  Meestaire 
Luna  at  ze  mill  bin  foreman.  Slick  men !  Ver'  slick 
men !  An'  two  slick  men  bin  ask  hoi'  Pierre,  one  hoi' 
Frenchmans,  how  mek  for  Meestaire  Firmstone  ze 
troub'."  Pierre  shook  his  head  deprecatingly.  "  Mek 
one  suppose.  Mek  suppose  ze  mill  all  ze  time  broke 
down.  Mek  suppose  ze  mine  raise  hell.  Bien! 
Bimeby  ze  company  say,  '  Meestaire  Firmstone  bin 
no  good.' ' 

"  Frenchy's  hitting  pay  dirt  all  right,"  com 
mented  Luna.  "That's  the  stuff!" 

Pierre  rose  to  his  feet  excitedly. 

"  Bien!  Ze  mill  broke  down  and  ze  mine  blow  hup. 
Bimeby  ze  company  say,  '  Meestaire  Firmstone  mek 
beaucoup  ze  troub'  all  ze  time ! '  Bien!  Ze  steel  get 
hin  ze  roll,  ze  stamp  break,  ze  tram  break,  ze  men 
kick.  Hall  ze  time  Meestaire  Firmstone  mek  ze  ex 
plain.  Comment!  Meestaire  Firmstone,  you  ain't 
bin  fit  for  no  superintend.  Come  hoff;  we  bin  got 
anodder  fel'.'  " 

Luna  expressed  his  comprehension  of  Pierre's  plan. 
He  was  seconded  by  the  mine  foreman.  Morrison  was 
not  wholly  enthusiastic;  but  he  yielded. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "warm  it  up  for  him.  We'll 
[109] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

give  it  a  try,  anyway.  I'd  like  to  see  that  smooth 
faced,  glass-eyed  company  minion  dancing  on  a  hot 
iron." 

The  assembly  broke  up.     The  very  next  day  the 
warming  process  began  in  earnest. 


[110] 


CHAPTER    X 

Elise  Goes  Forth  to  Conquer 

ELISE  had  been  environed  by  very  plebeian 
surroundings.  Being  ignorant  of  her  birth 
right,  her  sympathies  were  wholly  with  her 
associates.  Not  that  as  yet  they  had  had  any  occasion 
for  active  development;  only  the  tendencies  were 
there.  In  a  vague,  indefinite  way  she  had  heard  of 
kings  and  queens,  of  lords  and  ladies,  grand  person 
ages,  so  far  above  common  folk  that  they  needs  must 
have  mongrel  go-betweens  to  make  known  their  royal 
wills.  Though  she  knew  that  kings  and  queens  had 
no  domain  beneath  the  eagle's  wings,  she  had  absorbed 
the  idea  that  in  the  distant  East  there  was  springing 
up  a  thrifty  crop  of  nobilities  who  had  very  royal 
wills  which  only  lacked  the  outward  insignia.  These, 
having  usurped  that  part  of  the  eagle's  territory 
known  as  the  East,  were  now  sending  into  the  as  yet 
free  West  their  servile  and  unscrupulous  minions. 

This  was  common  talk  among  the  imported  citizens 
who  flocked  nightly  to  the  Blue  Goose,  and  in  this 
view  of  the  case  the  home-made  article  coincided  with 
its  imported  fellows.  There  were,  however,  a  few 

[in] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

independents  like  Bennie,  and  these  had  a  hard  row 
of  corn.  By  much  adulation  the  spirit  of  liberty  was 
developing  tyrannical  tendencies,  and  by  a  kind  of 
cross-fertilization  was  inspiring  her  votaries  with  the 
idea  that  freedom  meant  doing  as  they  pleased,  and 
dissenters  be  damned! 

On  this  evening  Elise  was  in  attendance  as  usual 
at  the  little  arcade,  which  was  divided  from  the  coun 
cil-room  by  a  thin  partition  only.  Consequently,  she 
had  overheard  every  word  that  passed  between  Pierre 
and  his  visitors.  She  had  given  only  passive  atten 
tion  to  Morrison's  citation  of  grievances;  but  to  his 
proposed  plan  of  action  she  listened  eagerly. 

Her  sympathies  were  thoroughly  enlisted  over  his 
proposed  strike  more  than  over  Pierre's  artful  sug 
gestion 'of  covert  nagging.  Not  that  she  considered 
an  ambushed  attack,  under  the  circumstances,  as  rep 
rehensible,  but  rather  because  open  attack  revealed 
one's  personality  as  much  as  the  other  course  con 
cealed  it.  The  first  year  only  of  humanity  is  wholly 
satisfied,  barring  colic,  with  the  consciousness  of  ex 
istence.  The  remaining  years  are  principally  con 
cerned  with  impressing  it  upon  others. 

Elise  was  very  far  from  possessing  what  might  be 
termed  a  retiring  disposition.  This  was  in  a  large 
measure  due  to  a  naturally  vivacious  temperament; 
for  the  rest,  it  was  fostered  by  peculiarly  congenial 
surroundings.  In  this  environment  individuality  was 
[112] 


ELISE  GOES  FORTH  TO  CONQUER 

free  to  express  itself  until  it  encountered  opposition, 
when  it  was  still  more  freely  stimulated  to  fight  for 
recognition,  and,  by  sheer  brute  force,  to  push  itself 
to  the  ascendant.  This  being  the  case,  Elise  was 
sufficiently  inspired  by  the  exigencies  of  the  evening 
to  conceive  and  plan  an  aggressive  campaign  on  her 
own  account.  Being  only  a  girl,  she  could  not  take 
part  either  in  Morrison's  open  warfare,  or  in  Pierre's 
more  diplomatic  intrigues.  Being  a  girl,  and  untram 
melled  by  conventionalities,  she  determined  upon  a 
raid  of  her  own.  Her  objective  point  was  none  other 
than  Firmstone  himself.  Having  come  to  this  laud 
able  conclusion,  she  waited  impatiently  an  oppor 
tunity  for  its  execution. 

Early  one  morning,  a  few  days  later,  Elise  saw 
Firmstone  riding  unsuspiciously  by,  on  his  way  to  the 
mine.  Previous  observations  had  taught  her  to  expect 
his  return  about  noon.  So  without  ceremony,  so  far 
as  Pierre  and  Madame  were  concerned,  Elise  took 
another  holiday,  and  followed  the  trail  that  led  to 
the  mine.  At  the  falls,  where  she  had  eaten  break 
fast  with  Zephyr,  she  waited  for  Firmstone's  re 
turn. 

Toward  noon  she  heard  the  click  of  iron  shoes 
against  the  rocks,  and,  scattering  the  flowers  which 
she  had  been  arranging,  she  rose  to  her  feet.  Firm- 
stone  had  dismounted  and  was  drinking  from  the 
stream.  She  stood  waiting  until  he  should  notice  her. 
[118] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

As  he  rose  to  his  feet  he  looked  at  her  in  astonished 
surprise.  Above  the  average  height,  his  compact, 
athletic  figure  was  so  perfectly  proportioned  that  his 
height  was  not  obtrusive.  His  beardless  face  showed 
every  line  of  a  determination  that  was  softened  by 
mobile  lips  which  could  straighten  and  set  with  de 
cision,  or  droop  and  waver  with  appreciative  humour. 
His  blue  eyes  were  still  more  expressive.  They  could 
glint  with  set  purpose,  or  twinkle  with  quiet  hu 
mour  that  seemed  to  be  heightened  by  their  polished 
glasses. 

Elise  was  inwardly  abashed,  but  outwardly  she 
showed  no  sign.  She  stood  straight  as  an  arrow, 
her  hands  clasped  behind  her  back,  every  line  of 
her  graceful  figure  brought  out  by  her  unaffected 
pose. 

"  So  you  are  the  old  man,  are  you  ?  "  The  curi 
osity  of  the  child  and  the  dignity  of  the  woman  were 
humorously  blended  in  her  voice  and  manner. 

"  At  your  service."  Firmstone  raised  his  hat  de 
liberately.  The  dignity  of  the  action  was  compro 
mised  by  a  twinkle  of  his  eyes  and  a  wavering  of  his 
lips. 

Elise  looked  a  little  puzzled. 

"  How  old  are  you  ?  "  she  asked,  bluntly. 

"  Twenty-eight." 

"  That's  awfully  old.  I'm  sixteen,"  she  answered, 
decisively. 

[114] 


ELISE  GOES  FORTH  TO  CONQUER 

"  That's  good.     What  next?  " 

"  What's  a  minion  ?  "  she  asked.  She  was  trying 
to  deploy  her  forces  for  her  premeditated  attack. 

"A  minion?"  he  repeated,  with  a  shade  of  sur 
prise.  "  Oh,  a  minion's  a  fellow  who  licks  the  boots 
of  the  one  above  him  and  kicks  the  man  below  to  even 
up/' 

Elise  looked  bewildered. 

"  What  does  that  mean?  " 

"  Oh,  I  see."  Firmstone's  smile  broadened. 
"  You're  literal-minded.  According  to  Webster,  a 
minion  is  a  man  who  seeks  favours  by  flattery." 

"  Webster!  "  she  exclaimed.     "  Who's  Webster?  " 

"  He's  the  man  who  wrote  a  lexicon." 

"  A  lexicon?     What's  a  lexicon?  " 

"  It's  a  book  that  tells  you  how  to  spell  words,  and 
tells  you  what  they  mean." 

Elise  looked  superior. 

"  I  know  how  to  spell  words,  and  I  know  what  they 
mean,  too,  without  looking  in  a — .  What  did  you 
call  it?  " 

"  Lexicon.  I  thought  you  just  said  you  knew  what 
words  meant." 

"  I  didn't  mean  big  words,  just  words  that  common 
folks  use." 

"  You  aren't  common  folks,  are  you  ?  " 

"  That's  just  what  I  am,"  Elise  answered,  aggress 
ively,  "  and  we  aren't  ashamed  of  it,  either.  We're 
[115] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

just  as  good  as  anybody,"  she  ended,  with  a  toss  of 
her  head. 

"  Oh,  thanks."  Firmstone  laughed.  "  I'm  common 
folks,  too." 

"  No,  you  aren't.  You're  a  minion.  M'sieu 
Mo-reeson  says  so.  You're  a  capitalistic  hireling 
sent  out  here  to  oppress  the  poor  working-man.  You 
use  long  tape-lines  to  measure  up,  and  short  rods  to 
measure  holes,  and  you  sneak  in  the  mill  at  night, 
and  go  prying  round  the  mine,  and  posting  notices, 
and — er — oh,  lots  of  things.  You  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  yourself."  She  paused  in  breathless  in 
dignation,  looking  defiantly  at  Firmstone. 

Firmstone  chuckled. 

"Looks  as  if  I  were  a  pretty  bad  lot,  doesn't  it? 
How  did  you  find  out  all  that?  " 

"  I  didn't  have  to  find  it  out.  I  hear  M'sieu 
Mo-reeson  and  Daddy  and  Luna  and  lots  of  others 
talking  about  it.  Daddy  says  you're  '  smooth,  ver' 
smooth  stuff,' "  she  mimicked.  Elise  disregarded 
minor  contradictions.  "  'Twon't  do  you  any  good, 
though.  The  day  is  not  far  distant  when  down-trod 
den  labour  will  rise  and  smite  the  oppressor.  Then — " 
her  lips  were  still  parted,  but  memory  failed  and 
inspiration  refused  to  take  its  place.  "  Oh,  well," 
she  concluded,  lamely,  "  you'll  hunt  your  hole  all 
right." 

"  You're  an  out-and-out  socialist,  aren't  you  ?  " 

[116] 


ELISE  GOES  FORTH  TO  CONQUER 

"A  socialist?"  Elise  looked  aghast.  "What's 
a  socialist?  " 

"  A  socialist  is  one  who  thinks  that  everyone  else 
is  as  unhappy  and  discontented  as  he  is,  and  that  any 
thing  that  he  can't  get  is  better  than  what  he  can. 
Won't  you  be  seated  ?  "  Firmstone  waved  her  to  a 
boulder. 

Elise  seated  herself,  but  without  taking  her  eyes 
from  Firmstone's  face. 

"  Now  you're  making  fun  of  me." 

"  No,  I'm  not." 

"  Yes,  you  are." 

"  What  makes  you  think  so?  " 

"  Because  you  sit  there  and  grin  and  grin  all  the 
time,  and  use  big  words  that  you  know  I  can't  under 
stand.  Where  did  you  learn  them?  " 

"  At  school." 

"  Oh,  you've  been  to  school,  then,  have  you  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  How  long  did  you  go  to  school?  " 

"  Ten  or  twelve  years,  altogether." 

"  Ten  or  twelve  years !  What  an  awful  stupid  you 
must  be !  "  She  looked  at  him  critically ;  then,  with 
a  modifying  intonation,  "  Unless  you  learned  a 
whole  lot.  I  know  I  wouldn't  have  to  go  to  school  so 
long."  She  looked  very  decided.  Then,  after  a 
pause,  "  You  must  have  gone  clear  through  your 
arithmetic.  Zephyr  taught  me  all  about  addition  and 
[117] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

division  and  fractions,  clear  to  square  root.  I  wanted 
to  go  through  square  root,  but  he  said  he  didn't  know 
anything  about  square  root,  and  it  wasn't  any  use, 
anyway.  Did  you  go  through  square  root?" 

"  Yes.  Do  you  want  me  to  teach  you  square  root?  " 

"  Oh,  perhaps  so,  some  time,"  Elise  answered,  in 
differently.  "  What  else  did  you  study  ?  " 

"  Algebra,  trigonometry,  Latin,  Greek."  Firm- 
stone  teasingly  went  through  the  whole  curriculum, 
ending  with  botany  and  zoology. 

Elise  fairly  gasped. 

"  I  never  knew  there  was  so  much  to  learn.  What's 
zoo — what  did  you  call  it — about  ?  " 

"  Zoology,"  explained  Firmstone ;  "  that  teaches 
you  about  animals,  and  botany  teaches  you  about 
plants." 

"  Oh,  is  that  all?  "  Elise  looked  relieved,  and  then 
superior.  "  Why,  I  know  all  about  animals  and 
plants  and  birds  and  things,  and  I  didn't  have  any 
books,  and  I  never  went  to  school,  either.  Do  all  the 
big  folks  back  East  have  to  have  books  and  go  to 
school  to  learn  such  things?  They  must  be  awful 
stupids.  Girls  don't  go  to  school  out  here,  nor  boys 
either.  There  aren't  any  schools  out  here.  Not  that 
I  know  of.  Mammy  says  I  must  go  to  school  some 
where.  Daddy  says  I  sha'n't.  They  have  no  end  of 
times  over  it,  and  it's  lots  of  fun  to  see  daddy  get 
mad.  Daddy  says  I've  got  to  get  married  right  away. 
[118] 


ELISEGOESFORTHTOCONQUER 

But  I  won't.  You  didn't  tell  me  if  girls  went  to  school 
with  you." 

"  No ;  they  have  schools  of  their  own." 

Elise  asked  many  questions.  Then,  suddenly  drop 
ping  the  subject,  she  glanced  up  at  the  sun. 

"  It's  almost  noon,  and  I'm  awfully  hungry.  I 
think  I'll  have  to  go." 

"  I'll  walk  down  with  you,  if  you'll  allow  me." 

He  slipped  his  arm  through  the  bridle  and  started 
down  the  trail.  Elise  walked  beside  him,  plying  him 
with  questions  about  his  life  in  the  East,  and  what 
people  said  and  did.  Firmstone  dropped  his  teasing 
manner  and  answered  her  questions  as  best  he  could. 
He  spoke  easily  and  simply  of  books  and  travel  and 
a  thousand  and  one  things  that  her  questions  and 
comments  suggested.  Her  manner  had  changed  en 
tirely.  Her  simplicity,  born  of  ignorance  of  the  dif 
ferent  stations  in  life  which  they  occupied,  displayed 
her  at  her  best.  Her  expressive  eyes  widened  and 
deepened,  and  the  colour  of  her  cheeks  paled  and 
glowed  under  the  influence  of  the  new  and  strange 
world  of  which  he  was  giving  her  her  first  glimpse. 

They  reached  the  Blue  Goose.  Firmstone  paused, 
raising  his  hat  as  he  turned  toward  her.  But  Elise 
was  no  longer  by  his  side.  She  had  caught  sight  of 
Morrison,  who  was  standing  on  the  top  step,  glower 
ing  savagely,  first  at  her,  then  at  Firmstone. 

Morrison  was  habilitated  in  his  usual  full  dress — 
[119] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

that  is,  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  unbuttoned  vest,  a  collar- 
less  shirt  flecked  with  irregular,  yellowish  dots,  and 
a  glowing  diamond.  Just  now  he  stood  with  his  hands 
in  his  pockets  and  his  head  thrust  decidedly  forward. 
His  square,  massive  jaw  pressed  his  protruding  lips 
against  his  curled  moustache.  His  eyes,  narrowed 
to  a  slit,  shot  forth  malignant  glances,  his  wavy  hair, 
plastered  low  upon  a  low  forehead  and  fluffed  out  on 
either  side,  flattened  and  broadened  his  head  to  the 
likeness  of  a  venomous  serpent  preparing  to  strike. 

Elise  reached  the  foot  of  the  stone  steps,  shot  a 
look  of  fierce  defiance  at  the  threatening  Morrison, 
then  she  turned  toward  Firmstone,  with  her  head  bent 
forward  till  her  upturned  eyes  just  reached  him  from 
beneath  her  arching  brows.  She  swept  him  a  low 
courtesy. 

"  Good-bye,  Mr.  Minion !  "  she  called.  "  I've  had 
an  awfully  nice  time." 

She  half  turned  her  head  toward  Morrison,  then, 
as  Firmstone  lifted  his  hat  in  acknowledgment,  she 
raised  her  hand  to  her  laughing  lips  and  flung  him 
a  kiss  from  the  tips  of  her  fingers.  Gathering  her 
skirts  in  her  hand,  she  darted  up  the  steps  and  nearly 
collided  with  Morrison,  who  had  deliberately  placed 
himself  in  her  way. 

She  met  Morrison's  indignant  look  with  the  hau 
teur  of  an   offended  goddess.      Morrison's   eyes  fell 
from  before  her ;  but  he  demanded : 
[120] 


ELISE  GOES  FORTH  TO  CONQUER 

"Where  did  you  pick  up  that — that  scab?"  It 
was  the  most  opprobrious  epithet  he  could  think  of. 

Elise's  rigid  figure  stiffened  visibly. 

"  It's  none  of  your  business." 

"  What  have  you  been  talking  about?  " 

"  It's  none  of  your  business.  Is  there  any  more 
information  you  want  that  you  won't  get  ?  " 

"  I'll  make  it  my  business !  "  Morrison  burst  out, 
furiously.  "  El " 

"  Go  back  to  your  gambling  and  leave  me  alone !  " 
With  unflinching  eyes,  that  never  left  his  face,  she 
passed  him  almost  before  he  was  aware  of  it,  and 
entered  the  open  door. 

Could  Morrison  have  seen  the  change  that  came 
over  her  face,  as  soon  as  her  back  was  toward  him, 
he  might  have  gained  false  courage,  through  mis 
taking  the  cause.  Loathing  and  defiance  had  de 
parted.  In  their  place  were  bewildering  question 
ings,  not  definite,  but  suggested.  For  the  first  time 
in  her  life  her  hitherto  spontaneous  actions  waited 
approbation  before  the  bar  of  judgment.  The  coarse, 
venomous  looks  of  Morrison  ranged  themselves  side  by 
side  with  the  polished  ease  and  deference  of  Firm- 
stone. 

As  she  passed  through  the  bar-room  long  accus 
tomed  sights  were,  for  the  first  time,  seen,  not  clearly, 
but  comparatively.  In  the  corridor  that  led  to  the 
dining-room  she  encountered  Pierre.  She  did  not 
[121] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

speak  to  him.  The  quick  eyes  of  the  little  French 
man  noted  the  unwonted  expression,  but  he  did  not 
question  her.  At  the  proper  time  he  would  know  all. 
Meantime  his  concern  was  not  to  forget. 

Elise  opened  the  door  of  the  dining-room  and  en 
tered.  Madame  looked  up  as  the  door  closed.  Elise 
stood  with  distant  eyes  fixed  upon  the  pathetically 
plain  little  woman.  Never  before  had  she  noticed  the 
lifeless  hair  strained  from  the  colourless  tan  of  the 
thin  face,  the  lustreless  eyes,  the  ill-fitting,  faded 
calico  wrapper  that  dropped  in  meaningless  folds 
from  the  spare  figure.  Madame  waited  patiently  for 
Elise  to  speak,  or  to  keep  silence  as  she  chose.  For 
a  moment  only  Elise  stood.  The  next  instant  Ma 
dame  felt  the  strong  young  arms  about  her,  felt  hot, 
decided  kisses  upon  her  cheeks.  Madame  was  sur 
prised.  Elise  was  fierce  with  determination.  Elise 
was  doing  penance.  Madame  did  not  know  it. 

Elise  left  Madame  standing  bewildered,  and  darted 
upstairs  to  her  little  room.  She  flung  herself  on  her 
bed  and  fought — fought  with  ghostly,  flitting  shad 
ows  that  elusively  leered  from  darker  shades,  grasped 
at  fleeting  phantoms  that  ranged  themselves  beside 
the  minatory  demons,  until  at  last  she  grew  tired  and 
slept. 

Elise  had  left  the  Blue  Goose  in  the  morning,  a 
white-winged,  erratic  craft,  skimming  the  sparkling, 
land-locked  harbours  of  girlhood.  She  returned,  and 
[122] 


ELISE  GOES  FORTH  TO  CONQUER 

already  the  first  lifting  swells  beyond  the  sheltering 
bar  were  tossing  her  in  their  arms.  She  had  entered 
the  shoreless  ocean  of  womanhood. 

Pierre  passed  from  the  corridor  to  the  bar-room. 
He  glanced  from  the  bar  to  the  gaming-tables,  where 
a  few  listless  players  were  engaged  at  cards,  and 
finally  stepped  out  upon  the  broad  piazza.  He 
glanced  at  Morrison,  who  was  following  Firmstone 
with  a  look  of  malignant  hatred. 

"  Meestaire  Firmstone,  he  bin  come  from  ze  mine?  " 

"  To  hell  with  Firmstone ! "  growled  Morrison. 
He  turned  and  entered  the  saloon. 

Pierre  followed  him  with  knowing  eyes. 

"  To  hell  wiz  Firmstone,  heh? "  He  breathed 
softly.  "Bien!" 

Pierre  stood  looking  complacently  over  the  broken 
landscape.  Much  understanding  was  coming  to  him. 
The  harmlessness  of  the  dove  radiated  from  his  beam 
ing  face,  but  the  wisdom  of  the  serpent  was  shining 
in  his  eyes. 


CHAPTER    XI 

The  Devils  Elbow 

IF  Firmstone  had  flattered  himself  that  his  firm  but 
just  treatment  of  Luna  in  the  case  of  the  stolen 
ore  had  cleared  his  path  of  difficulties  he  would 
have  been  forced  by  current  events  to  a  rude  awaken 
ing.  He  had  been  neither  flattered  nor  deceived.  He 
knew  very  well  that  a  prop  put  under  an  unstable 
boulder  may  obscure  the  manifestation  of  gravity; 
but  he  never  deceived  himself  with  the  thought  that 
it  had  been  eliminated.  The  warming-up  process, 
recommended  by  Pierre,  was  being  actively  exploited. 
Scarcely  a  day  passed  but  some  annoying  accident 
at  the  mine  or  mill  occurred,  frequently  necessitating 
prolonged  shut-downs.  Day  by  day,  by  ones,  by 
twos,  by  threes,  his  best  men  were  leaving  the  mine. 
There  was  no  need  to  ask  them  why,  even  if  they 
would  have  given  a  truthful  answer.  He  knew  very 
well  why.  Yet  he  was  neither  disheartened  nor  dis 
couraged.  He  realised  the  fact  clearly,  as  he  had 
written  to  his  Eastern  employers  that  it  would  take 
time  and  much  patient  endeavour  to  restore  order 
where  chaos  had  reigned  so  long  undisturbed.  There 


THE     DEVIL'S     ELBOW 

was  another  element  impeding  his  progress  which  he 
by  no  means  ignored — that  was  the  Blue  Goose. 

He  had  no  tangible  evidence  against  the  resort  be 
yond  its  obvious  pretensions.  He  had  no  need  of  the 
unintentional  but  direct  evidence  of  Elise's  words 
that  the  habitues  of  the  Blue  Goose  there  aired  their 
grievances,  real  or  imagined,  and  that  both  Pierre 
and  Morrison  were  assiduously  cultivating  this  rest 
lessness  by  sympathy  and  counsel.  He  was  morally 
certain  of  another  fact — that  the  Blue  Goose  was  in 
directly,  at  least,  at  the  bottom  of  the  extensive  sys 
tem  of  thieving,  in  offering  a  sure  market  for  the 
stolen  gold.  This  last  fact  had  not  especially 
troubled  him,  for  he  felt  sure  that  the  careful  system 
of  checks  which  he  had  inaugurated  at  the  outset 
would  eventually  make  the  stealing  so  dangerous  that 
it  would  be  abandoned. 

So  far  in  the  history  of  the  camp,  when  once  the 
plates  were  cleaned  and  gold,  as  ingots,  was  in  pos 
session  of  the  company,  it  had  been  perfectly  safe. 
No  attempts  at  hold-ups  had  ever  been  made.  Yet 
Firmstone  had  provided,  in  a  measure,  safeguards 
against  this  possibility.  The  ingots  had  been  packed 
in  a  small  steel  safe  and  shipped  by  stage  to  the  near 
est  express  office,  about  ten  miles  distant.  Shipments 
had  not  been  made  every  day,  of  course.  But  every 
day  Firmstone  had  sent  the  safe,  loaded  with  pigs  of 
lead.  The  next  day  the  safe  was  returned,  and  in  it 
[125] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

was  the  agent's  receipt.  Whether  the  safe  carried 
gold  or  lead,  the  going  and  the  returning  weight  was 
the  same.  If  the  safe  carried  gold  enough  lead  was 
added  by  the  express  agent  to  make  the  returning 
weight  the  same.  This  fact  was  generally  known, 
and  even  if  a  stage  hold-up  should  be  attempted,  the 
chances  were  thirty  to  one  that  a  few  pounds  of  lead 
would  be  the  only  booty  of  the  robbers. 

This  afternoon  Firmstone  was  at  his  office-desk  in 
a  meditative  and  relieved  frame  of  mind.  He  was 
meditative  over  his  troubles  that,  for  all  his  care, 
seemed  to  be  increasing.  Relieved  in  that,  but  an 
hour  before,  $50,000  in  bullion  had  been  loaded  into 
the  stage,  and  was  now  rolling  down  the  canon  on  the 
way  to  its  legitimate  destination.  His  meditations 
were  abruptly  broken,  and  his  sense  of  relief  violently 
dissipated,  when  the  office-door  was  thrust  open,  and 
hatless,  with  clothing  torn  to  shreds,  the  stage-driver 
stood  before  him,  his  beard  clotted  with  blood  which 
flowed  from  a  jagged  cut  that  reached  from  his  fore 
head  across  his  cheek. 

Firmstone  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  startled  ex 
clamation.  The  driver  swept  his  hand  over  his  blood- 
clotted  lips. 

"No;  'tain't  a  hold-up;  just  a  plain,  flat  wreck. 
The  whole  outfit  went  over  the  cliff  at  the  Devil's 
Elbow.  I  stayed  with  my  job  long's  I  could,  but 
that  wa'n't  no  decades." 

[126] 


THE     DEVIL'S     ELBOW 

Firmstone  dragged  the  man  into  his  laboratory, 
and  carefully  began  to  wash  the  blood  from  his 
face. 

"  That's  too  long  a  process,  gov'ner."  The  driver 
soused  his  head  into  the  bucket  of  cold  watre  which 
Firmstone  had  drawn  from  the  faucet. 

"  Can  you  walk  now  ?  "  Firmstone  asked. 

"  Reckon  I'll  try  it  a  turn.  Been  flyin',  for  all  I 
know.  Must  have  been,  to  get  up  the  cliff.  I  flew 
down;  that  much  I  know.  Lit  on  a  few  places. 
That's  where  I  got  this."  He  pointed  to  the  cut. 

Firmstone  led  the  man  to  his  own  room  adjoining 
the  office,  and  opening  a  small  chest,  took  out  some 
rolls  of  plaster  and  bandages.  He  began  drying  the 
wound. 

The  office-door  again  opened  and  the  bookkeeper 
entered. 

"  Go  tell  Bennie  to  come  down  right  away,"  Firm- 
stone  ordered,  without  pausing  in  his  work. 

Satisfied  that  the  man's  skull  was  not  fractured,  he 
drew  the  edges  of  the  wound  together  and  fastened 
them  with  strips  of  plaster.  A  few  minutes  later 
Bennie,  followed  by  Zephyr,  hurriedly  entered  the 
office.  Paying  no  attention  to  their  startled  exclama 
tions,  Firmstone  said: 

"  I  wish  you  would  look  after  Jim.     He's  badly 
hurt.    He'll  tell  you  about  it.    You  said  at  the  Devil's 
Elbow?  "  turning  to  the  driver. 
[127] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

Zephyr  glanced  critically  at  the  man ;  then,  making 
up  his  mind  that  he  was  not  needed,  he  said : 

"I'll  go  along  with  you.     Are  you  heeled?" 

Firmstone  made  no  audible  reply,  but  took  down 
his  revolver  and  cartridge-belt,  and  buckled  them 
on. 

"  'Tain't  the  heels  you  want ;  it's  wings  and  fins. 
They  won't  be  much  good,  either.  The  whole  outfit's 
in  the  San  Miguel.  I  followed  it  that  far,  and  then 
pulled  out."  The  driver  was  attempting  to  hold  out 
gamely,  but  the  excitement  and  the  severe  shaking-up 
were  evidently  telling  on  him. 

Firmstone  and  Zephyr  left  the  office  and  followed 
the  wagon-trail  down  the  canon.  Neither  spoke  a 
word. 

They  reached  the  scene  of  the  wreck  and,  still  silent, 
began  to  look  carefully  about.  A  hundred  feet  be 
low  them  the  San  Miguel,  swollen  by  melting  snows, 
foamed  and  roared  over  its  boulder-strewn  bed.  Near 
the  foot  of  the  cliff  one  of  the  horses  was  impaled 
on  a  jagged  rock;  its  head  and  shoulders  in  the  lap 
ping  water.  In  mid-stream  and  further  down  the 
other  was  pressed  by  the  current  against  a  huge  rock 
that  lifted  above  the  flood.  No  trace  of  the  stage 
was  to  be  seen.  That,  broken  into  fragments  by  the 
fall,  had  been  swept  away. 

The  spot  where  the  accident  occurred  was  a  danger 
ous  one  at  best.  For  some  distance  after  leaving  the 
[128] 


THE    DEVIL'S    ELBOW 

mill  the  trail  followed  a  nearly  level  bench  of  hard 
slate  rock,  then,  dipping  sharply  downward,  cut 
across  a  long  rock-slide  that  reached  to  the  summit 
of  the  mountain  a  thousand  feet  above.  On  the  oppo 
site  side  a  square-faced  buttress  crowded  the  trail  to 
the  very  brink  of  the  canon.  The  trail  followed  along 
the  foot  of  this  buttress  for  a  hundred  feet  or  more, 
and  at  the  edge  it  again  turned  from  the  gorge  at 
an  acute  angle.  At  the  turning-point  a  cleft,  twenty 
feet  wide,  cut  the  cliff  from  the  river-bed  to  a  point 
far  above  the  trail.  A  bridge  had  spanned  the  cleft, 
but  it  was  gone.  The  accident  had  been  caused  by 
the  giving  way  of  the  bridge  when  the  stage  was 
on  it. 

"Well,  what  do  you  make  of  it?"  Firmstone 
turned  to  Zephyr  and  Zephyr  shook  his  head. 

"  That's  a  superfluous  interrogation.  Your  thinks 
and  mine  on  this  subject  under  consideration  are  as 
alike  as  two  chicks  hatched  from  a  double-yolked 

egg-" 

"  This  is  no  accident."    Firmstone  spoke  decidedly. 

Zephyr  nodded  deliberately. 

"  That's  no  iridescent  dream,  unless  you  and  I  have 
been  hitting  the  same  pipe." 

"  The  question  is,"  resumed  Firmstone,  "  was  the 
safe  taken  from  the  stage  before  the  accident?  "  He 
looked  at  Zephyr  inquiringly. 

"  That  depends  on  Jim  Norwood."  Zephyr  whis- 
[129] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

tied  meditatively,  then  spoke  with  earnest  decision. 
"  That  safe's  in  the  river.  The  Blue  Goose  has  been 
setting  for  some  time.  This  ain't  the  first  gosling 
that's  pipped  its  shell,  and  'tain't  going  to  be  the 
last  one,  either,  unless  the  nest  is  broken  up." 

"  That's  what  I  think."  Firmstone  spoke  slowly. 
"  But  this  is  a  dangerous  game.  I  didn't  think  it 
would  go  so  far." 

"  It's  up  to  you  hard ;  but  that  isn't  the  worst  of 
it.  It's  going  to  be  up  to  you  harder  yet.  They  never 
reckoned  on  Jim's  getting  out  of  this  alive."  Zephyr 
seated  himself,  and  his  hand  wandered  unconsciously 
to  his  shirt.  Then,  changing  his  mind,  he  spoke  with 
out  looking  up.  "  You  don't  need  this,  Goggles,  but 
I'm  going  to  give  it  to  you,  just  the  same.  You're 
heavier  calibre  and  longer  range  than  the  whole 
crowd.  But  I  am  with  you,  and  there  are  others.  The 
gang  haven't  landed  their  plunder  yet,  and,  what's 
more,  they  aren't  going  to,  either.  I'll  see  to  that. 
You  just  restez  tranquille,  and  give  your  mind  to 
other  things.  This  little  job  is  about  my  size." 

Firmstone  made  no  reply  to  Zephyr.  He  knew  his 
man,  knew  thoroughly  the  loyal  sense  of  honour  that, 
though  sheltered  in  humourous,  apparently  indiffer 
ent  cynicism,  was  ready  to  fight  to  the  death  in  de 
fence  of  right. 

"  I  think  we  might  as  well  go  back  to  the  mill. 
We've  seen  all  there  is  to  be  seen  here." 
[  130  ] 


THE     DEVIL'S     ELBOW 

They  walked  back  in  silence.  At  the  office-door 
Zephyr  paused. 

"  Won't  you  come  in  ?  "  asked  Firmstone. 

"  I  think  not,  dearly  beloved.  The  spirit  moveth 
me  in  sundry  places.  In  other  words,  I've  got  a 
hunch.  And  say,  Goggles,  don't  ask  any  embarrass 
ing  questions,  if  your  grub  mysteriously  disappears. 
Just  charge  it  up  to  permanent  equipment  account, 
and  keep  quiet,  unless  you  want  to  inquire  darkly 
whether  anyone  knows  what's  become  of  that  fellow 
Zephyr." 

"  Don't  take  any  risks,  Zephyr.  A  man's  a  long 
time  dead.  You  know  as  well  as  I  the  gang  you're 
up  against.  I  think  I  know  what  you're  up  to,  and 
I  also  think  I  can  help  you  out." 

Firmstone  entered  the  office  with  no  further  words. 
It  was  the  hardest  task  of  many  that  he  had  had,  to 
send  a  report  of  the  disaster  to  the  company,  but  he 
did  not  shrink  from  it.  He  made  a  plain  statement 
of  the  facts  of  the  case,  including  the  manner  in 
which  the  bridge  had  been  weakened  to  the  point  of 
giving  way  when  the  weight  of  the  stage  had  been 
put  upon  it.  He  also  added  that  he  was  satisfied  that 
the  purpose  was  robbery,  and  that  he  knew  who  was 
at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  business,  that  steps  were 
being  taken  to  recover  the  safe;  but  that  the  convic 
tion  of  the  plotters  was  another  and  a  very  doubtful 
proposition.  Above  all  things,  he  asked  to  be  let 
[181  ] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

alone  for  a  while,  at  least.  The  driver,  he  stated, 
had  no  idea  that  the  wrecking  of  the  stage  was  other 
than  it  appeared  on  the  face,  an  accident  pure  and 
simple.  The  letter  was  sealed  and  sent  by  special 
messenger  to  the  railroad. 

One  thing  troubled  Firmstone.  He  was  very  sure 
that  his  request  to  be  let  alone  would  not  be  heeded. 
Hartwell,  the  Eastern  manager  of  the  company,  was 
a  shallow,  empty-headed  man,  insufferably  conceited. 
He  held  the  position,  partly  through  a  controlling 
interest  in  the  shares,  but  more  through  the  nimble 
use  of  a  glib  tongue  that  so  manoeuvred  his  corporal's 
guard  of  information  that  it  appeared  an  able-bodied 
regiment  of  knowledge  covering  the  whole  field  of 
mining. 

If  Firmstone  had  any  weaknesses,  one  was  an  open 
contempt  of  flatterers  and  flattery,  the  other  an  im 
politic,  impatient  resentment  of  patronage.  There 
had  been  no  open  breaks  between  the  manager  and 
himself;  in  fact,  the  manager  professed  himself  an 
admiring  friend  of  Firmstone  to  his  face.  At  direc 
tors' meetings  "Firmstone  was  a  fairly  promising  man 
who  only  needed  careful  supervision  to  make  in  time 
a  valuable  man  for  the  company."  Firmstone  had 
strongly  opposed  the  shipping  of  bullion  by  private 
conveyance  instead  of  by  a  responsible  express  com 
pany.  In  this  he  was  overruled  by  the  manager. 
Being  compelled  to  act  against  his  judgment,  he  had 
[132] 


THE     DEVIL'S     ELBOW 

done  his  best  to  minimise  the  risk  by  making  dummy 
shipments  each  day,  as  has  been  explained. 

The  loss  of  the  month's  clean-up  was  a  very  seri 
ous  one,  and  he  had  no  doubt  but  that  it  would  result 
in  a  visit  from  the  manager,  and  that  the  manager 
would  insist  upon  taking  a  prominent  part  in  any 
attempt  to  recover  the  safe,  if  indeed  he  did  not  as 
sume  the  sole  direction.  The  opportunity  to  add  to 
his  counterfeit  laurels  was  too  good  to  be  lost.  In 
the  event  of  failure,  Firmstone  felt  that  no  delicate 
scruples  would  prevent  the  shifting  of  the  whole  af 
fair  upon  his  own  shoulders. 

Firmstone  had  not  made  the  mistake  of  minimising 
the  crafty  cunning  of  Pierre,  nor  of  interpreting  his 
troubles  at  the  mine  and  mill  at  their  obvious  values. 
Cunningly  devised  as  was  the  wreck  of  the  stage,  he 
felt  sure  that  there  was  another  object  in  view  than 
the  very  obvious  and  substantial  one  of  robbery. 
With  the  successful  wrecking  of  the  stage  there  were 
yet  large  chances  against  the  schemers  getting  pos 
session  of  the  safe  and  its  contents.  Still,  there  was 
a  chance  in  their  favour.  If  neither  Pierre  nor  the 
company  recovered  the  bullion,  Pierre's  scheme  would 
not  have  miscarried  wholly.  The  company  would  still 
be  in  ignorance  of  the  possibilities  of  the  mine.  Firm- 
stone  arranged  every  possible  detail  clearly  in  his 
mind,  from  Pierre's  standpoint.  His  thorough  grasp 
of  the  entire  situation,  his  unwearying  application  to 
[133] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

the  business  in  hand  made  further  stealing  impossible. 
Pierre  was  bound  to  get  him  out  of  his  position.  The 
agitation  inaugurated  by  Morrison  was  only  a  part 
of  the  scheme  by  means  of  which  this  result  was  to 
be  accomplished.  A  whole  month's  clean-up  had  been 
made.  If  this  reached  the  company  safely,  it  would 
be  a  revelation  to  them.  Firmstone's  position  would 
be  unassailable,  and  henceforth  Pierre  would  be  com 
pelled  to  content  himself  with  the  yield  of  the  gam 
bling  and  drinking  at  the  Blue  Goose.  Whether  the 
bullion  ever  found  its  way  to  the  Blue  Goose  or  not, 
the  wrecking  of  the  stage  would  be  in  all  likelihood 
the  culminating  disaster  in  Firmstone's  undoing. 

Firmstone's  indignation  did  not  burn  so  fiercely 
against  Pierre  and  Morrison — they  were  but  venomous 
reptiles  who  threatened  every  decent  man — as  at  the 
querulous  criticisms  of  his  employers,  which  were  a 
perpetual  drag,  clogging  his  every  movement,  and 
threatening  to  neutralise  his  every  effort  in  their  be 
half.  He  recalled  the  words  of  an  old  and  successful 
mine  manager: 

"  You've  got  a  hard  row  of  corn.  When  you  tackle 
a  mine  you've  got  to  make  up  your  mind  to  have 
everyone  against  you,  from  the  cook-house  flunkey  to 
the  president  of  the  company,  and  the  company  is  the 
hardest  crowd  to  buck  against." 

Firmstone's  face  grew  hard.  The  fight  was  on, 
[134] 


THE     DEVIL'S     ELBOW 

and  he  was  in  it  to  win.    That  was  what  he  was  going 
to  do. 

Zephyr,  meantime,  had  gone  to  the  cook-house.  He 
found  Bennie  in  his  room. 

"How's  Jim?"  he  asked. 

"  Sleeping.  That's  good  for  him.  He'll  pull  out 
all  right.  Get  on  to  anything  at  the  bridge?  "  Bennie 
was  at  sharp  attention. 

"  Nothing  to  get  on  to,  Julius  Benjamin.  The 
bridge  is  gone.  So's  everything  else.  It's  only  a 
matter  of  time  when  Goggles  will  be  gone,  too.  This 
last  will  fix  him  with  the  company."  Zephyr  glanced 
slyly  at  Bennie  with  the  last  words.  "  The  jig  is  up. 
The  fiddle's  broke  its  last  string,  and  I'm  going,  too." 

Bennie's  eyes  were  flaming. 

"  Take  shame  to  yourself  for  those  words,  you 
white-livered  frog-spawn,  with  a  speck  in  the  middle 
for  the  black  heart  of  you!  You're  going?  Well, 
here's  the  bones  of  my  fist  and  the  toe  of  my  boot, 
to  speed  you !  " 

"  You'll  have  to  put  me  up  some  grub,  Benjamin." 

"  Grub !  It's  grub,  is  it  ?  I'll  give  you  none.  Stay 
here  a  bit  and  I'll  grub  you  to  more  purpose.  I'll  put 
grit  in  your  craw  and  bones  in  your  back,  and  a  sup 
of  glue,  till  you  can  stand  straight  and  stick  to  your 
friends.  Lacking  understanding  that  God  never 
gave  you,  I'll  point  them  out  to  you ! " 
[135] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

Zephyr's  eyes  had  a  twinkle  that  Bennie's  indig 
nation  overlooked. 

"  The  Lord  never  passed  you  by  on  the  other  side, 
Julius.  He  put  a  heavy  charge  in  your  bell-muzzle. 
You're  bound  to  hit  something  when  you  go  off.  If 
He'd  only  put  a  time-fuse  on  your  action,  'twould 
have  only  perfect.  Not  just  yet,  Julius  Benjamin!  " 
Zephyr  languidly  lifted  a  detaining  hand  as  Bennie 
started  to  interrupt.  "  I'm  going  a  long  journey  for 
an  uncertain  time.  This  is  for  the  public.  But, 
Julius,  if  you'll  take  a  walk  in  the  gloaming  each 
day,  and  leave  an  edible  bundle  in  the  clump  of 
spruces  above  the  Devil's  Elbow  you'll  find  it  mysteri 
ously  disappears.  From  which  you  may  infer  that 
I'm  travelling  in  a  circle  with  a  small  radius.  And 
say,  Julius,  heave  over  some  of  your  wind  ballast  and 
even  up  with  discretion.  You're  to  take  a  minor  part 
in  a  play,  with  Goggles  and  me  as  stars." 

"  It's  lean  ore  you're  working  in  your  wind-mill. 
Just  what  does  it  assay?"  Bennie  was  yet  a  little 
suspicious. 

"  For  a  man  of  abundant  figures,  Julius,  you  have 
a  surprising  appetite  for  ungarnished  speech.  But 
here's  to  you!  The  safe's  in  the  river.  There's  fifty 
thousand  in  bullion  in  the  safe  that's  in  the  river. 
The  Blue  Goose  crowd  is  after  the  bullion  that's  in 
she  safe  that's  in  the  river.  Say,  Julius  Benjamin, 
this  is  hard  sledding.  It's  the  story  of  the  House  that 
[136] 


THE     DEVIL'S     ELBOW 

Jack  Built,  adapted  to  present  circumstances.  I'm 
going  to  hang  out  in  the  canon  till  the  river  goes 
down,  or  till  I  bag  some  of  the  goslings  from  the  Blue 
Goose.  Your  part  is  to  work  whom  it  may  concern 
into  the  belief  that  I've  lit  out  for  my  health,  and 
meantime  to  play  raven  to  my  Elijah.  Are  you  on?  " 
"  Yes,  I'm  on,"  growled  Bennie.  "  On  to  more 
than  you'll  ever  be.  You  have  to  empty  the  gab  from 
your  head  to  leave  room  for  your  wits." 


[137] 


CHAPTER    XII 

Figs  and   Thistles 

THOUGH  Zephyr  had  not  explained  his  plan 
of  operations  in  detail,  Firmstone  found  no 
difficulty  in  comprehending  it.  It  was  of 
prime  importance  to  have  the  river  watched  by  an 
absolutely  trustworthy  man,  and  Firmstone  was  in  no 
danger  of  having  an  embarrassing  number  from 
whom  to  choose.  A  day  or  two  of  cold,  cloudy  weather 
was  liable  to  occur  at  any  time,  and  this,  checking  the 
melting  of  the  snow,  would  lower  the  river  to  a  point 
where  it  would  be  possible  to  search  for,  and  to  re 
cover  the  safe. 

It  was  with  a  feeling  of  relief  that  he  tacitly  con 
fided  the  guarding  of  the  river  to  Zephyr.  While  he 
offered  no  opposition  to  Zephyr's  carrying  out  his 
scheme  of  having  his  mysterious  disappearance  re 
ported,  he  was  fully  satisfied  that  it  would  not  deceive 
Pierre  for  an  instant.  Firmstone,  however,  was  de 
ceived  in  another  way.  It  was  a  case  of  harmless 
self-deception,  the  factors  of  which  were  wholly  be 
yond  his  control.  His  reason  assured  him  unmistak- 
[138] 


FIGS     AND     THISTLES 

ably  that  Hartwell  would  start  at  once  for  Colorado 
on  learning  of  the  loss  of  the  bullion,  and  that  the 
manager  would  be  a  hindrance  in  working  out  his 
plans,  if  indeed  he  did  not  upset  them  entirely. 

Firmstone's  confidence  in  his  ability  to  emerge 
finally  triumphant  from  his  troubles  came  gradually 
to  strengthen  his  hope  into  the  belief  that  he  would 
be  let  alone.  A  telegram  could  have  reached  him 
within  a  week  after  he  had  reported  the  loss,  but  none 
came.  He  was  now  awaiting  a  letter. 

The  bridge  had  been  repaired,  and  travel  resumed. 
A  meagre  account  of  the  accident  had  been  noted  in 
the  Denver,  as  well  as  in  the  local  papers,  but  no  hint 
was  given  that  it  was  considered  otherwise  than  as  an 
event  incidental  to  mountain  travel.  The  miraculous 
escape  of  the  driver  was  the  sole  item  of  interest. 
These  facts  gratified  Firmstone  exceedingly.  Pierre 
was  evidently  satisfied  that  the  cards  were  in  his 
own  hands  to  play  when  and  as  he  would.  He  was 
apparently  well  content  to  sit  in  the  game  with  Firm- 
stone  as  his  sole  opponent.  Firmstone  was  equally 
well  content,  if  only 

There  came  the  sharp  click  of  the  office  gate.  In 
side  the  railing  stood  a  slender  man  of  medium  height, 
slightly  stooped  forward.  On  his  left  arm  hung  a 
light  overcoat.  From  a  smooth  face,  with  a  mouth 
whose  thin  lips  oscillated  between  assumed  determina 
tion  and  cynical  half -smiles,  a  pair  of  grey  eyes  twin- 

[139] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

kled  with  a  humorously  tolerant  endurance  of  the 
frailties  of  his  fellow-men. 

"Well,  how  are  you?"  The  gloved  right  hand 
shot  out  an  accompaniment  to  his  words. 

Firmstone  took  the  proffered  hand. 

"  Nothing  to  complain  of.  This  is  something  of 
a  surprise."  This  was  true  in  regard  to  one  mental 
attitude,  but  not  of  another.  Firmstone  voiced  his 
hopes,  not  his  judgment. 

"  It  shouldn't  be."  The  eyes  lost  their  twinkle  as 
the  mouth  straightened  to  a  line.  "  I'm  afraid  you 
hardly  appreciate  the  gravity  of  the  situation.  The 
loss  of  $50,000  is  serious,  but  it's  no  killing  matter 
to  a  company  with  our  resources.  It's  the  conditions 
which  make  such  losses  possible." 

"  Yes."  Firmstone  spoke  slowly.  The  twinkle  was 
in  his  eyes  now.  "  As  I  understand  it,  this  is  the 
first  time  conditions  have  made  such  a  loss  pos 
sible." 

The  significance  of  the  words  was  lost  on  Hart- 
well.  The  possibility  of  a  view-point  other  than  his 
own  never  occurred  to  him. 

"  We  will  not  discuss  the  matter  now.  I  shall  be 
here  until  I  have  straightened  things  out.  I  have 
brought  my  sister  with  me.  Her  physician  ordered 
a  change  of  air.  Beatrice,  allow  me  to  introduce  my 
superintendent,  Mr.  Firmstone." 

A  pink  and  white  face,  with  a  pair  of  frank,  blue 

[140] 


FIGS    AND     THISTLES 

eyes,  looked  out  from  above  a  grey  travelling  suit, 
and  acknowledged  the  curt  introduction. 

"  I  am  very  happy  to  meet  you."  Firmstone  took 
the  proffered  hand  in  his  own. 

Miss  Hartwell  smiled.  "  Don't  make  any  rash  as 
sertions.  I  am  going  to  be  here  a  long  time.  Where 
are  you  going,  Arthur?  "  She  turned  to  her  brother, 
who,  after  fidgeting  around,  walked  briskly  across 
the  room. 

"  I'll  be  back  directly.  I  want  to  look  after  your 
room.  Make  yourself  comfortable  for  a  few  minutes. 
Then  addressing  Firmstone,  "  I  suppose  our  quarters 
upstairs  are  in  order?  " 

"  I  think  so.  Here  are  the  keys.  Or  will  you 
allow  me?" 

"  No,  thanks.  I'll  attend  to  it."  Hartwell  took 
the  keys  and  left  the  room. 

Firmstone  turned  to  Miss  Hartwell. 

"  What  kind  of  a  trip  did  you  have  out?  " 

"  Delightful !  It  was  hot  and  dusty  across  the 
plains,  but  then  I  didn't  mind.  It  was  all  so  new 
and  strange.  I  really  had  no  conception  of  the  size 
of  our  country  before." 

"  And  here,  even,  you  are  only  a  little  more  than 
half  way  across." 

"  I  know,  but  it  doesn't  mean  much  to  me." 

"  Does  the  altitude  trouble  you  ?  " 

"You  mean  Marshall  Pass?" 
[141] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

"  Yes.  In  part,  but  you  know  Denver  is  over  five 
thousand  feet.  Some  people  find  it  very  trying  at 
first." 

"  Perhaps  I  might  have  found  it  so  if  I  had 
stopped  to  think.  But  I  had  something  else  to  think 
of.  You  know  I  had  a  ridiculous  sensation,  just  as 
if  I  were  going  to  fall  off  the  world.  Now  you  speak 
of  it,  I  really  think  I  did  gasp  occasionally."  She 
looked  up  smilingly  at  Firmstone.  "  I  suppose  you 
are  so  accustomed  to  such  sights  that  my  enthusiasm 
seems  a  bore." 

"  Do  you  feel  like  gasping  here?  " 

"  No ;  why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Because  you  are  a  thousand  feet  higher  than  at 
Marshall  Pass,  and  here  we  are  three  thousand  feet 
below  the  mine.  You  would  not  only  have  the  fear 
of  falling  off  from  the  world  up  there,  but  the  danger 
of  it  as  well." 

Miss  Hartwell  looked  from  the  office  window  to 
the  great  cliff  that  rose  high  above  its  steep,  sloped 
talus. 

"  I  told  Arthur  that  I  was  going  to  see  everything 
and  climb  everything  out  here,  but  I  will  think  about 
it  first." 

"  I  would  suggest  your  seeing  about  it  first.  Per 
haps  that  will  be  enough." 

Hartwell  bustled  into  the  room  with  a  preoccupied 
air.     "  Sorry  to  have  kept  you  waiting  so  long." 
[142] 


FIGS     AND     THISTLES 

Miss  Hartwell  followed  her  brother  from  the  room 
and  up  the  stairs. 

"  Make  yourself  as  comfortable  as  you  can,  Bea 
trice.  I  gave  you  full  warning  as  to  what  you  might 
expect  out  here.  You  will  have  to  look  out  for  your 
self  now.  I  shall  be  very  busy ;  I  can  see  that  with 
half  an  eye." 

"  I  think  if  Mr.  Firmstone  is  one  half  as  efficient 
as  he  is  agreeable  you  are  borrowing  trouble  on  a 
very  small  margin."  Miss  Hartwell  spoke  with  de 
cided  emphasis. 

"  Smooth  speech  and  agreeable  manners  go  farther 
with  women  than  they  do  in  business,"  Hartwell 
snapped  out. 

"  I  hope  you  have  a  good  business  equipment  to 
console  yourself  with." 

Hartwell  made  no  reply  to  his  sister,  but  busied 
himself  unstrapping  her  trunk. 

"  Dress  for  supper  as  soon  as  you  can.  You  have 
an  hour,"  he  added,  looking  at  his  watch. 

Hartwell  did  not  find  Firmstone  on  re-entering  the 
office.  He  seated  himself  at  the  desk  and  began  look 
ing  over  files  of  reports  of  mine  and  mill.  Their  order 
and  completeness  should  have  pleased  him,  but,  from 
the  frown  on  his  face,  they  evidently  did  not. 

Firmstone,  meanwhile,  had  gone  to  the  cook-house 
to  warn  Bennie  of  his  coming  guests,  and  to  advise  the 
[143] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

garnishing  of  the  table  with  the  whitest  linen  and  the 
choicest  viands  which  his  stores  could  afford. 

"  What  sort  of  a  crowd  are  they  ?  "  Bennie  in 
quired. 

"  You'll  be  able  to  answer  your  own  question  in 
a  little  while.  That  will  save  you  the  trouble  of 
changing  your  mind." 

"  'Tis  no  trouble  at  all,  sir !  It's  a  damned  poor 
lobster  that  doesn't  know  what  to  do  when  his  shell 
pinches !  " 

Firmstone,  laughing,  went  to  the  mill  for  a  tour 
of  inspection  before  the  supper  hour.  Entering  the 
office  a  little  later,  he  found  Hartwell  at  his  desk. 

"  Well,"  he  asked,  "  how  do  you  find  things?  " 

Hartwell's  eyes  were  intrenched  in  a  series  of  ab 
sorbed  wrinkles  that  threw  out  supporting  works 
across  a  puckered  forehead. 

"  It's  too  soon  to  speak  in  detail.  I  propose  to 
inform  myself  generally  before  doing  that." 

"  That's  an  excellent  plan." 

Hartwell  looked  up  sharply.  Firmstone's  eyes 
seemed  to  neutralise  the  emphasis  of  his  words. 

"  Supper  is  ready  when  you  are.  Will  Miss  Hart- 
well  be  down  soon  ?  " 

Miss  Hartwell  rustled  into  the  room,  and  her 
brother  led  the  way  to  the  cook-house. 

Bennie   had   heeded  Firmstone's   words.      Perhaps 

there  was  a  lack  of  delicate  taste  in  the  assortment 

[ 


FIGS     AND     THISTLES 

of  colours,  but  scarlet-pinks,  deep  red  primroses,  azure 
columbines,  and  bright  yellow  mountain  sunflowers 
glared  at  each  other,  each  striving  to  outreach  its 
fellow  above  a  matted  bed  of  mossy  phlox.  Hartwell 
prided  himself,  among  other  things,  on  a  correct  eye. 

"  There's  a  colour  scheme  for  you,  Beatrice ;  you 
can  think  of  it  in  your  next  study." 

Bennie  was  standing  by  in  much  the  same  attitude 
as  a  suspicious  bumble-bee. 

"  Mention  your  opinion  in  your  prayers,  Mr.  Hart- 
well,  not  to  me.  They're  as  God  grew  them.  I  took 
them  in  with  one  sweep  of  my  fist." 

Miss  Hartwell's  eyes  danced  from  Firmstone  to 
Bennie. 

"  Your  cook  has  got  me  this  time,  Firmstone." 
Hartwell  grinned  his  appreciation  of  Bennie's  retort. 

They  seated  themselves,  and  Bennie  began  serving 
the  soup.  Hartwell  was  the  last.  Bennie  handed  his 
plate  across  the  table.  They  were  a  little  cramped 
for  room,  and  Bennie  was  saving  steps. 

"  It's  a  pity  you  don't  have  a  little  more  room  here, 
Bennie,  so  you  could  shine  as  a  waiter." 

"  Good  grub  takes  the  shortest  cut  to  a  hungry 
man  with  no  remarks  on  style.  There's  only  one  trail 
when  they  meet." 

Hartwell's  manner  showed  a  slight  resentment  that 
he  was  trying  to  conceal.  "  This  soup  is  excellent. 
[145] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

It's  rather  highly  seasoned  " — he  looked  slyly  at  Ben- 
nie — "  but  then  there's  no  rose  without  its  thorns." 

"  True  for  you.  But  there's  a  hell  of  a  lot  of  thorns 
with  the  roses,  I  take  note.  Beg  pardon,  Miss !  " 

Miss  Hartwell  laughed.  "  You  have  had  excellent 
success  in  growing  them  together,  Bennie." 

"  Thank  you,  Miss !  "  Bennie  was  flushed  with 
pleasure.  "  I've  heard  tell  that  there  were  roses 
without  thorns,  but  you're  the  first  of  the  kind  I've 
seen." 

Bennie  had  ideas  of  duty,  even  to  undeserving  ob 
jects.  Consequently,  Hartwell's  needs  were  as  care 
fully  attended  to  as  his  sister's  or  Firmstone's,  but 
in  spite  of  all  duty  there  is  a  graciousness  of  manner 
that  is  only  to  be  had  by  a  payment  in  kind.  Bennie 
paraded  his  duty  as  ostentatiously  as  his  pleasure, 
and  with  the  same  lack  of  words.  Hartwell  noted, 
and  kept  silence. 

Hartwell  looked  across  to  the  table  which  Bennie 
was  preparing  for  the  mill  crew. 

"  Do  you  supply  the  men  as  liberally  as  you  do 
your  own  table,  Firmstone?  " 

"  Just  the  same." 

"  Don't  think  I  want  to  restrict  you,  Firmstone. 
I  want  you  to  have  the  best  you  can  get,  but  it  strikes 
me  as  a  little  extravagant  for  the  men." 

Bennie  considered  himself  invaded. 

"  The  men  pay  for  their  extravagance,  sir." 
[146] 


FIGS     AND     THISTLES 

"  A  dollar  a  day  only,  with  no  risks,"  Hartwell  ten 
dered,  rather  stiffly. 

"  I'll  trade  my  wages  for  your  profits,"  retorted 
Bennie,  "  and  give  you  a  commission,  and  I'll  bind 
myself  to  feed  them  no  more  hash  than  I  do  now ! " 

The  company  rose  from  the  table.  For  the  benefit 
of  Miss  Hartwell  and  Firmstone,  Bennie  moved  across 
the  room  with  the  dignity  of  a  drum-major,  and, 
opening  the  door,  bowed  his  guests  from  his  presence. 


[147] 


CHAPTER    XIII 

The  Stork  and  the  Cranes 

IN  spite  of  Elise's  declaration  that  she  would  see 
him  again,  Firmstone  dropped  her  from  his  mind 
long  before  he  reached  his  office.  She  had  been 
an  unexpected  though  not  an  unpleasant,  incident; 
but  he  had  regarded  her  as  only  an  incident,  after  all. 
Her  beauty  and  vivacity  created  an  ephemeral  inter 
est;  yet  there  were  many  reasons  why  it  promised  to 
be  only  ephemeral.  The  Blue  Goose  was  a  gambling, 
drinking  resort,  a  den  of  iniquity  which  Firmstone 
loathed,  a  thing  which,  in  spite  of  all,  thrust  itself 
forward  to  be  taken  into  account.  How  much  worse 
than  a  den  of  thieves  and  a  centre  of  insurrection  it 
was  he  had  never  stated  to  himself.  He,  however, 
would  have  had  no  hesitancy  in  completing  the  at 
tributes  of  the  place  had  he  been  asked.  The  fact 
that  the  aegis  of  marriage  vows  spread  its  protecting 
mantle  over  the  proprietor,  and  its  shadow  over  the 
permanent  residents,  would  never  have  caused  a  wa 
vering  doubt,  or  certified  to  the  moral  respectability 
of  the  contracting  parties.  Firmstone  was  not  the 
first  to  ask  if  any  good  thing  could  come  out  of  Naz- 
[148] 


THE  STORK  AND  THE  CRANES 

areth,  or  if  untarnished  purity  could  dwell  in  the 
tents  of  the  Nazarenes.  It  occasionally  happens  that 
a  stork  is  caught  among  cranes  and,  even  innocent, 
is  compelled  to  share  the  fate  of  its  guilty,  though 
accidental,  associates. 

Thus  it  happened  that  when  Elise,  for  the  second 
time,  met  Firmstone  at  the  falls  he  hardly  concealed 
his  annoyance.  Elise  was  quick  to  detect  the  emotion, 
though  innocence  prevented  her  assigning  it  its  true 
source.  There  was  a  questioning  pain  in  the  large, 
clear  eyes  lifted  to  Firmstone's. 

The  look  of  annoyance  on  Firmstone's  face  melted. 
He  spoke  even  more  pleasantly  than  he  felt. 

"  Well,  what  I  can  do  for  you  this  time  ?  " 

"  You  can  go  away  from  my  place  and  stay 
away !  "  Elise  flashed  out. 

Firmstone's  smile  broadened. 

"  I  didn't  know  I  was  a  trespasser." 

"  Well,  you  are !  I  had  this  place  before  you  came, 
and  I'm  likely  to  have  it  after  you  are  gone !  "  The 
eyes  were  snapping. 

"  You  play  Cassandra  well."  Firmstone  was  pur 
posely  tantalising.  He  was  forgetting  the  cranes, 
nor  was  he  displeased  that  the  stork  had  other  wea 
pons  than  innocence. 

Elise's  manner  changed. 

"Who  is  Cassandra?" 

The  eager,  hungry  look  of  the  changing  eyes  smote 
[149] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

Firmstone.  The  bantering  smile  disappeared.  It 
occurred  to  him  that  Elise  might  be  outdoing  her 
prototype. 

"  She  was  a  very  beautiful  lady  who  prophesied 
disagreeable  things  that  no  one  believed." 

Elise  ignored  the  emphasis  which  Firmstone  un 
consciously  placed  on  beautiful.  She  grew  thought 
ful,  endeavouring  to  grasp  his  analogy. 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  slowly,  "  I'm  no  Cassandra." 
She  looked  sharply  at  Firmstone.  "  Daddy  says 
you're  going;  Mo-reeson  says  you're  going,  and  they 
put  their  chips  on  the  right  number  pretty  often." 

Firmstone  laughed  lightly. 

"  Oh,  well,  it  isn't  for  daddy  and  Morrison  to  say 
whether  I'm  to  go  or  not." 

"Who's  this  Mr.  Hartwell?"  Elise  asked, 
abruptly. 

"  He's  the  man  who  can  say." 

"  Then  you  are  up  against  it !  "  Elise  spoke  with 
decision.  There  was  a  suggestion  of  regret  in  her 
eyes. 

"  These  things  be  with  the  gods."  Firmstone  was 
half -conscious  of  a  lack  of  dignity  in  seeming  to  be 
interested  in  personal  matters,  not  intended  for  his 
immediate  knowledge.  Several  times  he  had  decided 
to  end  the  episode,  but  the  mobile  face  and  speaking 
eyes,  the  half-childish  innocence  and  unconscious 
grace  restrained  him. 

[150] 


THE  STORK  AND  THE  CRANES 

"  I  don't  believe  it."    Elise  looked  gravely  judicial. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  God  knows  what  he's  about.  Mr.  Hart- 
well  doesn't;  he  is  only  awfully  sure  he  does." 

Firmstone  chuckled  softly  over  the  unerring  esti 
mate  which  Elise  had  made.  He  began  gathering 
up  the  reins,  preparatory  to  resuming  his  way.  Elise 
paid  no  attention  to  his  motions. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  see  my  garden?  "  she  asked. 

"  Is  that  an  invitation?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  are  sure  I'll  not  trespass?  " 

Elise  looked  up  at  him. 

"  That's  not  fair.     I  was  mad  when  I  said  that." 

She  turned  and  hurriedly  pushed  through  the 
matted  bushes  that  grew  beside  the  stream.  There 
was  a  kind  of  nervous  restlessness  which  Firmstone 
did  not  recall  at  their  former  meeting.  They  emerged 
from  the  bushes  into  a  large  arena  bare  of  trees.  It 
was  completely  hidden  from  the  trail  by  a  semicircle 
of  tall  spruces  which,  sweeping  from  the  cliff  on  either 
side  of  the  fall,  bent  in  graceful  curves  to  meet  at  the 
margin  of  the  dividing  brook.  Moss-grown  boulders, 
marked  into  miniature  islands  by  cleaving  threads  of 
clear,  cold  water,  were  half  hidden  by  the  deep  pink 
primroses,  serried-massed  about  them.  Creamy  cups 
of  marshmallows,  lifted  above  the  succulent  green  of 
fringing  leaves,  hid  the  threading  lines  of  gliding 
[151] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

water.  On  the  outer  border  clustered  tufts  of  delicate 
azure  floated  in  the  thin,  pure  air,  veiling  modest 
gentians.  Moss  and  primrose,  leaf  and  branch  held 
forth  jewelled  fingers  that  sparkled  in  the  light,  while 
overhead  the  slanting  sunbeams  broke  in  iridescent 
bands  against  the  beaten  spray  of  the  falling  water. 
The  air,  surcharged  with  blending  colours,  spoke 
softly  sibilant  of  visions  beyond  the  power  of  words, 
of  exaltation  born  not  of  the  flesh,  of  opening  gates 
with  wider  vistas  into  which  only  the  pure  in  heart 
can  enter.  The  girl  stood  with  dreamy  eyes,  half- 
parted  lips,  an  unconscious  pose  in  perfect  harmony 
with  her  surroundings. 

As  Firmstone  stood  silently  regarding  the  scene 
before  him  he  was  conscious  of  a  growing  regret,  al 
most  repentance,  for  the  annoyance  that  he  had  felt 
at  this  second  meeting.  Yet  he  was  right  in  harbour 
ing  the  annoyance.  He  felt  no  vulgar  pride  in  that 
at  their  first  meeting  he  had  unconsciously  turned  the 
girl's  open  hostility  to  admiration,  or  at  least  to  toler 
ance  of  himself.  But  she  belonged  to  the  Blue  Goose, 
and  between  the  Blue  Goose  and  the  Rainbow  Com 
pany  there  was  open  war.  Suppose  that  in  him  Elise 
did  find  a  pleasure  for  which  she  looked  in  vain  among 
her  associates;  a  stimulant  to  her  better  nature  that 
hitherto  had  been  denied  her?  That  was  no  protec 
tion  to  her.  Even  her  unconscious  innocence  was  a 
weapon  of  attack  rather  than  a  shield  of  defence. 
[152] 


THE  STORK  AND  THE  CRANES 

She  and  she  alone  would  be  the  one  to  suffer.  For  this 
reason  Firmstone  had  put  her  from  his  mind  after 
their  first  meeting,  and  for  this  reason  he  had  felt 
annoyance  when  she  had  again  placed  herself  in  his 
path.  But  this  second  meeting  had  shown  another 
stronger  side  in  the  girl  before  him.  That  deep  in  her 
nature  was  an  instinct  of  right  which  her  surround 
ings  had  not  dwarfed.  That  this  instinct  was  not 
to  be  daunted  by  fear  of  consequences.  She  had  evi 
dently  come  to  warn  him  of  personal  danger  to  him 
self.  This  act  carried  danger — danger  to  her,  and 
yet  she  apparently  had  not  hesitated.  Perhaps  she 
did  not  realise  the  danger,  but  was  he  to  hold  it  of 
less  value  on  that  account?  Was  he  to  accept  what 
she  gave  him,  and  then  through  fear  of  malicious 
tongues  abandon  her  to  her  fate  without  a  thought? 
The  idea  was  revolting,  but  what  could  he  do?  His 
lips  set  hard.  There  must  be  a  way,  and  he  would 
find  it,  however  difficult.  In  some  way  she  should  have 
a  chance.  This  chance  must  take  one  of  two  forms: 
to  leave  her  in  her  present  surroundings,  and  counter 
act  their  tendencies  by  other  influences,  or,  in  some 
way,  to  remove  her  from  the  Blue  Goose. 

Firmstone  was  deeply  moved.  He  felt  that  his 
course  of  action  must  be  shaped  by  the  calmest  judg 
ment,  if  Elise  were  to  be  rescued  from  her  surround 
ings.  He  must  act  quickly,  intelligently.  If  he  had 
known  of  her  real  parentage  he  would  have  had  no 
[153] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

hesitancy.  But  he  did  not  know.  What  he  saw  was 
Elise,  the  daughter  of  Pierre  and  Madame.  To  him 
they  were  her  parents.  Whatever  opportunities  he 
offered  her,  however  much  she  might  desire  to  avail 
herself  of  them,  they  could  forbid ;  and  he  would  be 
helpless.  Elise  was  under  age ;  she  was  Pierre's,  to  do 
with  as  he  would.  This  was  statute  law.  Firmstone 
rebelled  against  it  instinctively ;  but  it  was  hopeless. 
He  knew  Pierre,  knew  his  greed  for  gold,  his  lack  of 
scruple  as  to  methods  of  acquiring  it.  He  did  not 
know  Pierre's  love  for  Elise;  it  would  not  have 
weighed  with  him  had  he  known.  For  he  was  familiar 
with  Pierre's  class.  Therefore  he  knew  that  Pierre 
would  rather  see  Elise  dead  than  in  a  station  in  life 
superior  to  his  own,  where  she  would  either  despise 
him  or  be  ashamed  of  him.  It  was  useless  to  appeal 
to  Pierre  on  the  ground  of  benefit  to  Elise.  This 
demanded  unselfish  sacrifice,  and  Pierre  was  selfish. 

Firmstone  tried  another  opening,  and  was  con 
fronted  with  another  danger.  If  Pierre  suspected 
that  efforts  were  being  made  to  weaken  his  hold  on 
Elise  there  was  one  step  that  he  could  take  which 
would  forever  thwart  Firmstone's  purpose.  He  had 
threatened  to  take  this  step.  Firmstone's  pulses  quick 
ened  for  a  moment,  then  calmed.  His  course  was 
clear.  The  law  that  declared  her  a  minor  gave  her 
yet  a  minor's  rights.  She  could  not  be  compelled  to 
marry  against  her  own  wishes.  Elise  must  be  saved 
[154] 


THE  STORK  AND  THE  CRANES 

through  herself.  At  once  he  would  set  in  motion  in 
fluences  that  would  make  her  present  associates  repug 
nant  to  her.  The  strength  of  mind,  the  hunger  of 
soul,  these  elements  that  made  her  worth  saving  should 
be  the  means  of  her  salvation.  Should  Pierre  attempt 
to  compel  her  marriage,  even  Firmstone  could  defeat 
him.  Persuasion  was  all  that  was  left  to  Pierre. 
Against  Pierre's  influence  he  pitted  his  own. 

"  Where  is  Zephyr?  "     Elise  broke  the  silence. 

"  Why  do  you  ask?  "  The  Blue  Goose  was  in  the 
ascendant.  Firmstone  was  casting  about  for  time. 
The  question  had  come  from  an  unexpected  direc 
tion. 

"  Because  he  is  in  danger,  and  so  are  you." 

"In  danger?"  Firmstone  did  not  try  to  conceal 
his  surprise. 

"  Yes."  Elise  made  a  slightly  impatient  gesture. 
"  It's  about  the  stage.  They  will  kill  him.  You,  too. 
I  don't  know  why." 

"They?    Who  are  they?" 

"  Morrison  and  Daddy." 

"Did  they  know  you  would  meet  me  to-day?" 

"  I  don't  know,  and  I  don't  care." 

"  You  came  to  warn  me?  " 

«  Yes." 
i      Firmstone  stretched  out  his  hand  and  took  hers. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  I  thank  you.     But 
don't  take  this  risk  again.     You  must  not.     I  will  be 
[155] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

on  my  guard,  and  I'll  look  out  for  Zephyr,  too."  He 
laid  his  other  hand  on  hers. 

At  the  touch,  Elise  looked  up  with  hotly  flaming 
cheeks,  snatching  her  hand  from  his  clasp.  Into  his 
eyes  her  own  darted.  Then  they  softened  and 
drooped.  Her  hand  reached  for  his. 

"  I  don't  care.  I  can  take  care  of  myself.  If  I 
can't,  it  doesn't  matter."  Her  voice  said  more  than 
words. 

"  If  you  are  ever  in  trouble  you  will  let  me  know?  " 
Firmstone's  hand  crushed  the  little  fingers  in  a  tight 
ening  grasp. 

"  Zephyr  will  help  me." 

Firmstone  turned  to  go. 

"  I  cannot  express  my  thanks  in  words.  In  another 
way  I  can,  and  I  will." 


[156] 


CHAPTER     XIV 

Blinded  Eyes 

AN  old  proverb  advises  us  to  be  sure  we  are 
right,  then  go  ahead.  To  the  last  part  of 
the  proverb  Hartwell  was  paying  diligent 
heed;  the  first,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  he  took 
for  granted.  Hartwell  was  carrying  out  energetically 
his  declared  intention  of  informing  himself  generally. 
He  was  accumulating  a  vast  fund  of  data  on  various 
subjects  connected  with  the  affairs  of  the  Rainbow 
Company,  and  he  was  deriving  great  satisfaction 
from  the  contemplation  of  the  quantity.  The  idea 
of  a  proper  valuation  of  its  quality  never  occurred 
to  him.  A  caterpillar  in  action  is  a  very  vigorous 
insect;  but  by  means  of  two  short  sticks  judiciously 
shifted  by  a  designing  mind  he  can  be  made  to  work 
himself  to  a  state  of  physical  exhaustion,  and  yet 
remain  precisely  at  the  same  point  from  whence  he 
started. 

Hartwell's  idea  was  a  fairly  laudable  one,  being 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  to  get  at  both  sides  of  the 
question  at  issue  individually  from  each  of  the  inter- 
[157] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

ested  parties.  Early  and  late  he  had  visited  the  mine 
and  mill.  He  had  interviewed  men  and  foremen  im 
partially,  and  the  amount  of  information  which  these 
simple  sons  of  toil  instilled  into  his  receptive  mind 
would  have  aroused  the  suspicions  of  a  less  self- 
centred  man. 

Of  all  the  sources  of  information  which  Hartwell 
was  vigorously  exploiting,  Luna,  on  the  whole,  was 
the  most  satisfactory.  His  guileless  simplicity  car 
ried  weight  with  Hartwell,  and  this  weight  was  added 
to  by  a  clumsy  deference  that  assumed  Hartwell's 
unquestioned  superiority. 

"You  see,  Mr.  Hartwell,  it's  like  this.  There's 
no  need  me  telling  you;  you  can  see  it  for  yourself, 
better  than  I  can  tell  it.  But  it's  all  right  your  ask 
ing  me.  You've  come  out  here  to  size  things  up  gen 
erally."  Luna  was  not  particularly  slow  in  getting 
on  to  curves,  as  he  expressed  it.  "  And  so  you  are 
sizing  me  up  a  bit  to  see  do  I  know  my  business  and 
have  my  eyes  open."  He  tipped  a  knowing  wink 
at  Hartwell.  Hartwell  nodded,  with  an  apprecia 
tive  grin,  but  made  no  further  reply.  Luna  went 
on: 

"  You  see,  it's  like  this,  as  I  was  saying.  Us  labour 
ing  men  are  sharp  about  some  things.  We  have  to  be, 
or  we  would  get  done  up  at  every  turn.  We  know 
when  a  boss  knows  his  business  and  when  he  don't. 
But  it  don't  make  no  difference  whether  he  does  or 
[158] 


BLINDED     EYES 

whether  he  don't,  we  have  to  stand  in  with  him.  We'd 
lose  our  jobs  if  we  didn't.  I'm  not  above  learning 
from  anyone.  I  ain't  one  as  thinks  he  knows  it  all.  I'm 
willing  to  learn.  I'm  an  old  mill  man.  Been  twenty 
years  in  a  mill — all  my  life,  as  you  might  say — 
and  I'm  learning  all  the  time.  Just  the  other  day 
I  got  on  to  a  new  wrinkle.  I  was  standing  watching 
Tommy ;  he's  battery  man  on  Five.  Tommy  was 
hanging  up  his  battery  on  account  of  a  loose  tappet. 
Tommy  he  just  hung  up  the  stamp  next  the  one  with 
the  loose  tappet,  and  instead  of  measuring  down,  he 
just  drove  the  tappet  on  a  level  with  the  other,  and 
keyed  her  up,  and  had  them  dropping  again  inside  of 
three  minutes.  I  watched  him,  and  when  he'd  started 
them,  I  up  and  says  to  Tommy,  'Tommy,'  says  I,  'I'm 
an  old  mill  man,  but  that's  a  new  one  on  me ! '  Tommy 
was  as  pleased  as  a  boy  with  a  pair  of  red-topped, 
copper-toed  boots.  It's  too  bad  they  don't  make  them 
kind  any  more ;  but  then,  they  don't  wear  out  as  fast 
as  the  new  kind.  But,  as  I  was  saying,  some  bosses 
would  have  dropped  on  Tommy  for  that,  and  told 
him  they  didn't  want  no  green  men  trying  new 
capers." 

Luna  paused  and  looked  at  Hartwell.  Hartwell  still 
beamed  approbation,  and,  after  casting  about  for  a 
moment,  Luna  went  on: 

"  You  see,  a  boss  don't  know  everything,  even  if 
he  has  been  to  college.  Most  Eastern  companies  don't 

r  159 1 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

know  anything.  They  send  out  a  boss  to  superintend 
their  work,  and  they  get  just  what  he  tells  them,  and 
no  more.  None  of  the  company  men  ever  come  out 
here  to  look  for  themselves.  I  ain't  blaming  them  in 
general.  They  don't  know.  Now  it's  truth  I'm  telling 
you.  I'm  an  old  mill  man.  Been  in  the  business 
twenty  years,  as  I  was  telling  you,  and  your  com 
pany's  the  first  I  ever  knew  sending  a  man  out  to 
find  what's  the  matter,  who  knew  his  business,  and 
wa'n't  too  big  to  speak  to  a  common  workman,  and 
listen  to  his  side  of  the  story." 

It  was  a  strong  dose,  but  Hartwell  swallowed  it 
without  a  visible  gulp.  Even  more.  He  was  im 
mensely  pleased.  He  was  gaining  the  confidence  of 
the  honest  toiler,  and  he  would  get  the  unvarnished 
truth. 

"  This  is  all  interesting,  very  interesting  to  me,  Mr. 
Luna.  I'm  a  very  strict  man  in  business,  but  I  try 
to  be  just.  I'm  a  very  busy  man,  and  my  time  is 
so  thoroughly  taken  up  that  I  am  often  very 
abrupt.  You  see,  it's  always  so  with  a  business  man. 
He  has  to  decide  at  once  and  with  the  fewest  pos 
sible  words.  But  I'm  always  ready  to  talk  over 
things  with  my  men.  If  I  haven't  got  time,  I  make 
it." 

"  It's  a  pity  there  ain't  more  like  you,  Mr.  Hart- 
well.  There  wouldn't  be  so  much  trouble  between 
capital  and  labour.  But,  as  I  was  saying,  we  labour- 
[160] 


BLINDED     EYES 

ing  men  are  honest  in  our  way,  and  we  have  feelings, 
too." 

Luna  was  getting  grim.  He  deemed  that  the  proper 
time  had  arrived  for  putting  his  personal  ax  upon 
the  whirling  grindstone.  He  looked  fixedly  at  Hart- 
well. 

"  As  I  was  saying,  Mr.  Hartwell,  us  labouring  men 
is  honest.  We  believe  in  giving  a  fair  day's  work  for 
a  fair  day's  pay,  and  it  grinds  us  to  have  the  boss 
come  sneaking  in  on  us  any  time,  day  or  night,  just 
like  a  China  herder.  He  ain't  running  the  mill  all 
the  time,  and  he  don't  know  about  things.  Machinery 
won't  run  itself,  and,  as  I  was  saying,  there  ain't  no 
man  knows  it  all.  And  if  the  boss  happens  to  catch 
two  or  three  of  us  talking  over  how  to  fix  up  a  bat 
tery,  or  key  up  a  loose  bull-wheel,  he  ain't  no  right 
to  say  that  we're  loafing  and  neglecting  our  business, 
and  jack  us  up  for  it.  As  I  said,  Mr.  Hartwell,  the 
labouring  man  is  honest;  but  if  we're  sneaked  on  as 
if  we  wasn't,  'tain't  going  to  be  very  long  before 
they'll  put  it  up  that,  if  they're  going  to  be  hung 
for  sheep-stealing,  they'll  have  the  sheep  first,  any 
way." 

Luna  paused  more  for  emphasis  than  for  approba 
tion.  That  he  could  see  in  every  line  of  Hart  well's 
face.  At  length  he  resumed : 

"  As  I  said,  that  ain't  all  by  a  long  shot.     There's 
all  sorts  of  pipe-dreams  floating  around  about  men's 
[161] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

stealing  from  the  mine  and  stealing  from  the  mill. 
But,  man  to  man,  Mr.  Hartwell,  ain't  the  superin 
tendent  got  a  thousand  chances  to  steal,  and  steal  big, 
where  a  common  workman  ain't  got  one?  "  Luna  laid 
vicious  emphasis  on  the  last  words,  and  his  expression 
gave  added  weight  to  his  words. 

To  do  Hartwell  simple  justice,  dishonesty  had 
never  for  an  instant  associated  itself  in  his  mind  with 
Firmstone.  He  deemed  him  inefficient  and  lacking 
a  grasp  of  conditions;  but,  brought  face  to  face 
with  a  question  of  honesty,  there  was  repugnance 
at  the  mere  suggestion.  His  face  showed  it.  Luna 
caught  the  look  instantly  and  began  to  mend  his 
break. 

"  I'm  not  questioning  any  man's  honesty.  But  it's 
just  like  this.  Why  is  it  that  a  poor  labouring  man 
is  always  suspected  and  looked  out  for,  and  those  as 
has  bigger  chances  goes  free?  That's  all,  and,  man 
to  man,  I'm  asking  you  if  that's  fair." 

Luna's  garrulity  was  taking  a  line  which  Hartwell 
had  no  desire  to  investigate,  for  the  present,  at  least. 
He  answered  directly  and  abruptly: 

"  When  a  man  loses  a  dollar,  he  makes  a  fuss  about 
it.  When  he  loses  a  thousand,  he  goes  on  a  still 
hunt." 

Luna  took  his  cue.  He  winked  knowingly. 
"  That's  all  right.  You  know  your  business.  That's 
plain  as  a  squealing  pulley  howling  for  oil.  But  I 
[162] 


BLINDED     EYES 

wasn't  telling  you  all  these  things  because  you  needed 
to  be  told.  Anyone  can  see  that  you  can  just  help 
yourself.  I  just  wanted  to  tell  you  so  that  you  could 
see  that  us  labouring  men  ain't  blind,  even  if  every 
one  don't  see  with  eyes  of  his  own  the  way  you're 
doing.  You  are  the  first  gentleman  that  has  ever 
given  me  the  chance,  and  I'm  obliged  to  you  for  it. 
So's  the  men,  too." 

Hartwell  felt  that,  for  the  present,  he  had  gained 
sufficient  information,  and  prepared  to  go. 

"  I'm  greatly  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Luna,  for  the 
information  you  and  your  men  have  given  me."  He 
held  out  his  hand  cordially.  "  Don't  hesitate  to  come 
to  me  at  any  time." 

Hartwell  had  pursued  the  same  tactics  at  the  mine, 
and  with  the  same  results.  He  had  carefully  refrained 
from  mentioning  Firmstone's  name,  and  the  men  had 
followed  his  lead.  Hartwell  made  a  very  common 
mistake.  He  underrated  the  mental  calibre  of  the 
men.  He  assumed  that,  because  they  wore  overalls 
and  jumpers,  their  eyes  could  not  follow  the  pea  un 
der  the  shell  which  he  was  nimbly  manipulating.  In 
plain  English,  he  was  getting  points  on  Firmstone 
by  the  simple  ruse  of  omitting  to  mention  his  name. 
There  was  another  and  far  more  important  point  that 
never  occurred  to  him.  By  his  course  of  action  he 
was  completely  undermining  Firmstone's  authority. 
There  is  not  a  single  workman  who  will  ever  let  slip 
[163] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

an  opportunity  to  give  a  speeding  kick  to  a  falling 
boss  on  general  principles,  if  not  from  personal  mo 
tives.  Hartwell  never  took  this  factor  into  consider 
ation.  His  vanity  was  flattered  by  the  deference  paid 
to  him,  never  for  a  moment  dreaming  that  the  bulk 
of  the  substance  and  the  whole  of  the  flavour  of  the 
incense  burned  under  his  nose  was  made  up  of  resent 
ment  against  Firmstone,  nor  that  the  waning  stores 
were  nightly  replenished  at  the  Blue  Goose.  Had 
Hartwell  remained  East,  as  devoutly  hoped  by  Firm- 
stone,  it  is  all  but  certain  that  Firmstone's  methods 
would  have  averted  the  trouble  which  was  daily  grow 
ing  more  threatening. 

Hartwell  had  occasionally  dropped  in  for  a  social 
drink  at  the  Blue  Goose,  and  the  deferential  welcome 
accorded  to  him  was  very  flattering.  Each  occasion 
was  but  the  prologue  to  another  and  more  extended 
visit.  The  open  welcome  tendered  him  by  both  Pierre 
and  Morrison  had  wholly  neutralised  the  warnings 
embodied  in  Firmstone's  reports.  He  was  certain  that 
Firmstone  had  mistaken  for  deep  and  unscrupulous 
villains  a  pair  of  good-natured  oafs  who  preferred 
to  make  a  living  by  selling  whisky  and  running  a 
gambling  outfit,  to  pounding  steel  for  three  dollars 
a  day. 

In  starting  out  on  the  conquest  of  the  Blue  Goose, 
Hartwell  acted  on  an  erroneous  concept  of  the  foibles 
of  humanity.  The  greatness  of  others  is  of  small 
[164] 


BLINDED     EYES 

importance  in  comparison  with  one's  own.  The  one 
who  ignores  this  truth  is  continually  pulling  a  cat 
by  the  tail,  and  this  is  proverbially  a  hard  task.  Hart- 
well's  plan  was  first  to  create  an  impression  of  his  own 
importance  in  order  that  it  might  excite  awe,  and 
then,  by  gracious  condescension,  to  arouse  a  loyal  and 
respectful  devotion.  Considering  the  object  of  this 
attack,  he  was  making  a  double  error.  Pierre  was 
not  at  all  given  to  the  splitting  of  hairs,  but  in  comb 
ing  them  along  the  line  of  least  resistance  he  was  an 
adept. 

Hartwell,  having  pacified  the  mine  and  the  mill, 
had  moved  to  the  sanctum  of  the  Blue  Goose,  with 
the  idea  of  furthering  his  benign  influence.  Hartwell, 
Morrison,  and  Pierre  were  sitting  around  a  table  in 
the  private  office,  Hartwell  impatient  for  action, 
Pierre  unobtrusively  alert,  Morrison  cocksure  to  the 
verge  of  insolence. 

"  Meestaire  Hartwell  will  do  me  ze  honaire  to  mek 
ze  drink  ?  "  Pierre  inquired. 

"  Thanks."  Hartwell  answered  the  question  ad 
dressed  to  him.  "  Mine  is  brandy." 

"  A-a-ah !  Ze  good  discrimination !  "  purred  Pierre. 
"  Not  ze  whisky  from  ze  rotten  grain ;  but  ze  eau- 
de-vie  wiz  ze  fire  of  ze  sun  and  ze  sweet  of  ze  vine !  " 

Morrison  placed  glasses  before  each,  a  bottle  of 
soda,  and  Pierre's  choicest  brand  of  cognac  on  the 
table. 

[165] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

"  Help  yourself,"  he  remarked,  as  he  sat  down. 
Sipping  his  brandy  and  soda,  Hartwell  opened  the 

game. 

"  You  see,"  he  began,  addressing  Pierre,  "  things 
aren't  running  very  smoothly  out  here,  and  I  have 
come  out  to  size  up  the  situation.  The  fact  is,  I'm  the 
only  one  of  our  company  who  knows  a  thing  about 
mining.  It's  only  a  side  issue  with  me,  but  I  can't 
well  get  out  of  it.  My  people  look  to  me  to  help  them 
out,  and  I've  got  to  do  it." 

"  Your  people  have  ze  great  good  fortune — ver' 
great."  Pierre  bowed  smilingly. 

Hartwell  resumed :  "  I'm  a  fair  man.  I  have  now 
what  I  consider  sufficient  knowledge  to  warrant  me  in 
making  some  radical  changes  out  here;  but  I  want 
to  get  all  the  information  possible,  and  from  every 
possible  source.  Then  I  can  act  with  a  perfectly 
clear  conscience."  He  spoke  decidedly,  as  he  refilled 
his  glass. 

"  Then  fire  that  glass-eyed  supe  of  yours,"  Mor 
rison  burst  out.  "  You  never  had  any  trouble  till  he 
came." 

Hartwell  looked  mild  reproach.  Morrison  was 
going  too  fast.  There  was  a  pause.  Morrison  again 
spoke,  this  time  sullenly  and  without  raising  his 
eyes. 

"  He's  queered  himself  with  the  men.  They'll  do 
[166] 


BLINDED     EYES 

him  if  he  stays.  They  ain't  going  to  stand 
his  sneaking  round  and  treating  them  like  dogs. 
They " 

"  Mistaire  Mo-reeson  speak  bad  English,  ver' 
bad,"  Pierre's  words  cut  in  like  keen-edged  steel. 
"  On  ze  odder  side  ze  door,  it  not  mek  so  much  mat- 
taire." 

Morrison  left  the  room  without  a  word  further. 
There  was  a  look  of  sullen  satisfaction  on  his  face. 
Hartwell  smiled  approvingly  at  Pierre. 

"  You've  got  your  man  cinched  all  right." 

"  Hall  but  ze  tongue."  Pierre  shrugged  his  shoul 
ders,  with  a  slight  wave  of  his  hands. 

"  Well,"  Hartwell  resumed,  "  I  want  to  get  at  the 
bottom  of  this  stage  business.  Fifty  thousand 
doesn't  matter  so  much  to  us;  it's  the  thing  back  of 
it.  What  I  want  to  know  is  whether  it  was  an  acci 
dent,  or  whether  it  was  a  hold-up." 

"  Feefty  tousand  dollaire !  "  Pierre  spoke  mus 
ingly.  "  She  bin  a  lot  of  monnaie.  A  whole  lot." 
Pierre  hesitated,  then  looked  up  at  Hartwell. 

"Well?"  Hartwell  asked. 

"  How  you  know  she  bin  feefty  toueand  dollaire 
bin  ze  safe  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Firmstone  advised  me  of  its  shipment." 

"  Bien!    Ze  safe,  where  she  bin  now?  " 

"  In  the  river." 

"  A-a-ah!    You  bin  see  her,  heh?  " 
[167] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

"  No.     The  water's  too  high." 

"  When  ze  wattaire  bin  mek  ze  godown,  you  bin 
find  her,  heh?" 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"  Eienl  Mek  ze  suppose.  When  ze  wattaire  mek 
ze  godown,  you  not  find  ze  safe  ?  " 

To  some  extent,  Hartwell  had  anticipated  Pierre's 
drift,  but  he  preferred  to  let  him  take  his  own 
course. 

"  It  would  look  as  if  someone  had  got  ahead  of 
us." 

Pierre  waved  his  hand  impatiently.  "  Feefty  tou- 
sand  dollaire  bin  whole  lot  monnaie.  Big  lot  men 
like  feefty  tousand  dollaire,  ver'  big  lot.  Bimeby 
somebody  get  ze  safe.  Zey  find  no  feefty  tousand 
dollaire — only  pig  lead,  heh?  "  Pierre  looked  up 
shrewdly.  "  Ze  men  no  mek  ze  talk  'bout  feefty  tou 
sand  dollaire,  no  mek  ze  talk  'bout  honly  pig  lead, 
heh?" 

"  You  think,  then,  the  bullion  was  never  put  into 
the  safe?  "  Hartwell  had  hardly  gone  so  far  as  Pierre. 
"  In  other  words,  that  Mr.  Firmstone  kept  out 
the  bullion,  planned  the  wreck,  caused  the  report 
to  be  spread  that  there  was  fifty  thousand  in  the 
safe,  with  the  idea  of  either  putting  it  out  of 
the  way  himself,  or  that  someone  else  would  get 
it?" 

Pierre  looked  up  with  well-feigned  surprise. 
[168] 


BLINDED     EYES 

"  Mot?  "  he  asked.  "  Moi?  "  He  shrugged  his 
shoulders.  "  I  mek  ze  fact,  ze  suppose.  You  mek  ze 
conclude." 

Hartwell  looked  puzzled. 

"  But,"  he  said,  "  if  what  you  say  is  true,  there  is 
no  other  conclusion." 

Pierre  again  shrugged  his  shoulders  impatiently. 

"  Bien!  I  mek  no  conclude.  You  mek  ze  conclude. 
Ze  suppose  mek  ze  conclude.  She's  bin  no  mattaire 
d  moi.  I  mek  no  conclude."  Pierre's  words  and  man 
ner  both  intimated  that,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned, 
the  interview  was  closed. 

Pierre  was  a  merciful  man  and  without  malice. 
When  he  felt  that  his  dagger  had  made  a  mortal 
thrust  he  never  turned  it  in  the  wound.  In  this  inter 
view  circumstances  had  forced  him  farther  than  he 
cared  to  go.  He  was  taking  chances,  and  he  knew 
it.  Zephyr  was  booked  to  disappear.  Others  than 
Zephyr  were  watching  the  river.  But  Zephyr  might 
escape ;  the  company  might  recover  the  money.  What, 
then?  Only  his  scheme  would  have  miscarried.  The 
recovery  of  the  money  would  clear  Firmstone  and 
leave  him  where  he  was  before.  Pierre's  diagnosis 
of  Hartwell  was  to  the  effect  that,  if  an  idea  was 
once  lodged  in  his  mind,  an  earthquake  would  not 
jar  it  out  again.  Even  in  this  event  Pierre's  ob 
ject  would  be  accomplished.  Firmstone  would  have 
to  go. 

[169] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

Hartwell  made  several  ineffectual  attempts  to  draw 
out  Pierre  still  farther,  but  the  wily  Frenchman  baf 
fled  him  at  every  turn.  And  there  the  matter  rested. 
Had  Hartwell  taken  less  of  Pierre's  good  brandy,  he 
would  hardly  have  taken  so  freely  of  his  sinister  sug 
gestions.  As  it  was,  the  mellow  liquor  began  to 
impart  a  like  virtue  to  his  wits,  and  led  him  to 
clap  the  little  Frenchman's  back,  as  he  declared  his 
belief  that  Pierre  was  a  slick  bird,  but  that  his  own 
plumage  was  smoothly  preened  as  well.  Followed 
by  Pierre,  he  rose  to  leave  the  room.  His  eyes 
fell  upon  Elise,  sitting  quietly  at  her  desk,  and  he 
halted. 

His  outstretched  hand  had  hardly  touched  the  un 
suspecting  girl  when  Pierre  caught  him  by  the  collar, 
and,  with  a  twist  and  shove,  sent  him  staggering  half 
way  across  the  room.  Little  short  of  murder  was  blaz 
ing  from  Pierre's  eyes. 

"  Crapaud!  "  he  hissed.  "  You  put  ze  fingaire  hon 
my  li'l  Elise !  Sacre  mille  tonnerre!  I  kill  you ! " 
Pierre  started  as  if  to  carry  out  his  threat,  but  re 
straining  hands  held  him  back,  while  other  hands  and 
feet  buffeted  and  kicked  the  dazed  Hartwell  into  the 
street. 

The  safe  guarding  of  Elise  was  the  one  bright  spot 
in  Pierre's  very  shady  career.    To  the  fact  that  it  was 
bright  and  strong  his  turning  on  Hartwell  bore  tes 
timony.     Every  point  in  Pierre's  policy  had  dictated 
[170] 


BLINDED    EYES 

conciliation  and  sufferance ;  but  now  this  was  cast 
aside.  Pierre  rapidly  gained  control  of  his  temper, 
but  he  shifted  his  animus  from  the  lust  of  gain  to 
the  glutting  of  revenge. 


[171] 


CHAPTER    XV 

Bending  the  Twig 

FIRMSTONE  had  done  a  very  unusual  thing 
for  him  in  working  himself  up  to  the  point 
where  anything  that  threatened  delay  in  his 
proposed  rescue  of  Elise  made  him  impatient.  The 
necessity  for  immediate  action  had  impressed  itself  so 
strongly  upon  him  that  he  lost  sight  of  the  fact  that 
others,  even  more  deeply  concerned  than  himself, 
might  justly  claim  consideration.  He  knew  that  in 
some  way  Zephyr  was  more  or  less  in  touch  with  Pierre 
and  Madame.  Just  how  or  why,  he  was  in  no  mood 
to  inquire. 

Only  a  self-reliant  mind  is  capable  of  distinguish 
ing  between  that  which  is  an  essential  part  and  that 
which  seems  to  be.  So  it  happened  that  Firmstone, 
when  for  the  second  time  he  met  Zephyr  at  the  Devil's 
Elbow,  listened  impatiently  to  the  latter's  comments 
on  the  loss  of  the  safe.  When  at  last  he  abruptly 
closed  that  subject  and  with  equal  abruptness  intro 
duced  the  one  uppermost  in  his  mind  the  cold  reti 
cence  of  Zephyr  surprised  and  shocked  him. 
[172] 


BENDING     THE     TWIG 

The  two  men  had  met  by  chance,  almost  the  first 
day  that  Firmstone  had  assumed  charge  of  the  Rain 
bow  properties,  and  each  had  impressed  the  other  with 
a  feeling  of  profound  respect.  This  respect  had 
ripened  into  a  genuine  friendship.  Zephyr  saw  in 
Firmstone  a  man  who  knew  his  business,  a  man  capable 
of  applying  his  knowledge,  whose  duty  to  his  employ 
ers  never  blinded  his  eyes  to  the  rights  of  his  work 
men,  a  man  who  saw  clearly,  acted  decisively,  and 
yielded  to  the  humblest  the  respect  which  he  exacted 
from  the  highest.  These  characteristics  grew  on 
Zephyr  until  they  filled  his  entire  mental  horizon,  and 
he  never  questioned  what  might  be  beyond.  Yet  now 
he  had  fear  for  Elise.  Firmstone  was  so  far  above 
her.  Zephyr  shook  his  head.  Marriage  was  not  to 
be  thought  of,  only  a  hopeless  love  on  the  part  of 
Elise  that  would  bring  misery  in  the  end.  This  was 
Zephyr's  limit,  and  this  made  him  coldly  silent  in  the 
presence  of  Firmstone's  advances.  Firmstone  was  not 
thus  limited.  Zephyr's  silent  reticence  was  quickly 
fathomed.  His  liking  for  the  man  grew.  He  spoke 
calmly  and  with  no  trace  of  resentment. 

"  Of  course,  Elise  is  nothing  to  me  in  a  way.  But 
to  think  of  a  girl  with  her  possibilities  being  dwarfed 
and  ruined  by  her  surroundings !  "  He  paused,  then 
added,  "  I  wish  my  sister  had  come  out  with  me.  She 
wanted  to  come." 

Zephyr  caught  at  the  last  words  for  an  instant, 
[173] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

then  dropped  them.  His  answer  was  abrupt  and  non 
committal.  "  There  are  some  things  that  are  best 
helped  by  letting  them  alone." 

Firmstone  rose.  "  Good  night,"  he  said,  briefly, 
and  started  for  the  mill. 

Firmstone  was  disappointed  at  Zephyr's  reception ; 
but  he  had  reasoned  himself  out  of  surprise.  He  had 
not  given  up  the  idea  of  freeing  Elise  from  her  asso 
ciates.  That  was  not  Firmstone. 

The  next  morning,  as  usual,  he  met  Miss  Hartwell 
at  breakfast. 

"  I  am  going  up  to  the  mine,  this  morning. 
Wouldn't  you  like  to  go  as  far  as  the  Falls  ?  It  is  well 
worth  your  effort,"  he  added. 

"  I  would  like  to  go  very  much."  She  spoke  medi 
tatively. 

"  If  that  means  yes,  I'll  have  a  pony  saddled  for 
you.  I'll  be  ready  by  nine  o'clock." 

Miss  Hartwell  looked  undecided.  Firmstone  divined 
the  reason. 

"  The  trail  is  perfectly  safe  every  way,  and 
the  pony  is  sure-footed,  so  you  have  nothing  to 
fear." 

"  I  believe  I  will  go.  My  brother  will  never  find 
time  to  take  me  around." 

"  I'll  get  ready  at  once." 

A  seeming  accident  more  often  accomplishes  desir 
able  results  than  a  genuine  one.  Firmstone  was  fairly 
well  satisfied  that  one  excursion  to  the  Falls  would 
[174] 


BENDING     THE     TWIG 
incline  Miss  Hartwell  to  others.    If  she  failed  to  meet 
Elise  on  one  day   she  was  almost  certain  to  meet  her 
on  another. 

Promptly  at  nine  the  horses  were  at  the  door,  and  as 
promptly  Miss  Hartwell  appeared  in  her  riding  habit. 
In  her  hand  she  carried  a  sketchbook.  She  held  it  up, 
smiling. 

"  This  is  one  weakness  that  I  cannot  conceal." 

"  Even  that  needn't  trouble  you.  I'll  carry 
it." 

"You  seem  to  have  a  weakness  as  well."  She  was 
looking  at  a  small  box  which  Firmstone  was  fastening 
to  his  saddle. 

"  This  one  is  common  to  us  all.  We  may  not  be 
back  till  late,  so  Benny  put  up  a  lunch.  The  Falls 
are  near  Paradise ;  but  yet  far  enough  this  side  of  the 
line  to  make  eating  a  necessity." 

They  mounted  and  rode  away.  Firmstone  did  not 
take  the  usual  trail  by  the  Blue  Goose,  though  it  was 
the  shorter.  The  trail  he  chose  was  longer  and  easier. 
At  first  he  was  a  little  anxious  about  his  guest;  but 
Miss  Hartwell's  manner  plainly  showed  that  his 
anxiety  was  groundless.  Evidently  she  was  accus 
tomed  to  riding,  and  the  pony  was  perfectly  safe. 
The  trail  was  narrow  and,  as  he  was  riding  in  ad 
vance,  conversation  was  difficult,  and  no  attempt  was 
made  to  carry  it  on.  At  the  Falls  Firmstone  dis 
mounted  and  took  Miss  Hartwell's  pony  to  an  open 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

place,  where  a  long  tether  allowed  it  to  graze  in 
peace. 

Miss  Hartwell  stood  with  her  eyes  resting  on  reach 
after  reach  of  the  changing  vista.  She  turned  to 
Firmstone  with  a  subdued  smile. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  I  troubled  you  with  a  useless 
burden,"  she  said. 

"  I  do  not  know  to  what  you  refer  in  particular ; 
but  I  can  truthfully  deny  trouble  on  general  prin 
ciples." 

"  Really,  haven't  you  been  laughing  at  me,  all  this 
time?  You  must  have  known  how  utterly  hopeless  a 
sketch-book  and  water-colours  would  be  in  such  a 
place.  I  think  I'll  try  botany  instead.  That  appeals 
to  me  as  more  attainable." 

Firmstone  looked  at  his  watch, 

"  I  must  go  on.  You  are  quite  sure  you  won't  get 
tired  waiting?  I  have  put  your  lunch  with  your 
sketch-book.  I'll  be  back  by  two  o'clock,  any 
way." 

Miss  Hartwell  assured  him  that  she  would  not  mind 
the  waiting,  and  Firmstone  went  on  his  way. 

Miss  Hartwell  gathered  a  few  flowers,  then  opened 
her  botany,  and  began  picking  them  to  pieces  that  she 
might  attach  to  each  the  hard  name  which  others  had 
saddled  upon  it.  At  first  absorbed  and  intent  upon 
her  work,  at  length  she  grew  restless  and,  raising 
her  eyes,  she  saw  Elise.  On  the  girl's  face  curiosity 
[176] 


BENDING     THE     TWIG 

and  disapprobation  amounting  almost  to  resentment 
were  strangely  blended.  Curiosity,  for  the  moment, 
gained  the  ascendency,  as  Miss  Hartwell  raised  her 
eyes. 

"What  are  you  doing  to  those  flowers?"  Elise 
pointed  to  the  fragments. 

"  I  am  trying  to  analyse  them." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

"  Analysis  ?  "  Miss  Hartwell  looked  up  inquiring 
ly  ;  but  Elise  made  no  reply,  so  she  went  on.  "  That 
is  separating  them  into  their  component  parts,  to  learn 
their  structure." 

"What  for?"  Elise  looked  rather  puzzled,  but 
yet  willing  to  hear  the  whole  defence  for  spoliation. 

"  So  that  I  can  learn  their  names." 

"  How  do  you  find  their  names  ?  " 

It  occurred  to  Miss  Hartwell  to  close  the  circle  by 
simply  answering  "  analysis  " ;  but  she  f orebore. 

"  The  flowers  are  described  in  this  botany  and  their 
names  are  given.  By  separating  the  flowers  into  their 
parts  I  can  find  the  names." 

"  Where  did  the  book  get  the  names?  " 

If  Miss  Hartwell  was  growing  impatient  she  con 
cealed  it  admirably.  If  she  was  perplexed  in  mind, 
and  she  certainly  was,  perplexity  did  not  show  in  the 
repose  of  her  face.  Her  voice  flowed  with  the  modu 
lated  rhythm  of  a  college  professor  reciting  an  oft- 
repeated  lecture  to  ever-changing  individuals  with  an 
[177] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

unchanging  stage  of  mental  development.  If  her 
choice  of  answer  was  made  in  desperation  nothing 
showed  it. 

"  Botanists  have  studied  plants  very  carefully. 
They  find  certain  resemblances  which  are  persistent. 
These  persistent  resemblances  they  classify  into  fam 
ilies.  There  are  other  less  comprehensive  resemblances 
in  the  families.  These  are  grouped  into  genera  and 
the  genera  are  divided  into  species  and  these  again 
into  varieties,  and  a  name  is  given  to  each." 

Elise  in  her  way  was  a  genius.  She  recognised  the 
impossible.  Miss  HartwelPs  answers  were  impossible 
to  her. 

"  Oh,  is  that  all?  "  she  asked,  sarcastically.  "  Have 
you  found  the  names  of  these  ?  "  Again  she  pointed 
to  the  torn  flowers. 

Miss  Hartwell  divided  her  prey  into  groups. 

"  These  are  the  Ranunculaceae  family.  This  is  the 
Aquilegia  Caerulea.  This  is  the  Delphinium  Occi- 
dentale.  This  belongs  to  the  Polemoniaceae  family, 
and  is  the  Phlox  Caespitosa.  These  are  Composite. 
They  are  a  difficult  group  to  name."  Miss  Hartwell 
was  indulging  in  mixed  emotions.  Mingled  with  a 
satisfaction  in  reviewing  her  erudition  was  a  quiet 
revenge  heightened  by  the  unconsciousness  of  her 
object. 

"  You  don't  love  flowers."  There  was  no  indecision 
in  the  statement. 

[178] 


BENDING     THE     TWIG 

"  Why,  yes,  I  certainly  do." 

"  No ;  you  don't,  or  you  wouldn't  tear  them  to 
pieces." 

"  Don't  you  ever  pick  flowers  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  I  love  them.  I  take  them  to  my  room, 
and  they  talk  to  me.  They  do,  too !  "  Elise  flashed 
an  answer  to  a  questioning  look  of  Miss  Hartwell, 
and  then  went  on,  "  I  don't  tear  them  to  pieces  and 
throw  them  away.  Not  even  to  find  out  those  hideous 
names  you  called  them.  They  don't  belong  to  them. 
You  don't  love  them,  and  you  needn't  pretend  you 
do."  Elise's  cheeks  were  flushed.  Miss  Hartwell  was 
bewildered  in  mind.  She  acknowledged  it  to  herself. 
Elise  was  teaching  her  a  lesson  that  she  had  never 
heard  of  before,  much  less  learned.  Then  came  elusive 
suggestions,  vaguely  defined,  of  the  two-fold  aspect 
of  nature.  She  looked  regretfully  at  the  evidences 
of  her  curiosity.  She  had  not  yet  gone  far  enough 
along  the  new  path  to  take  accurate  notes  of  her  emo 
tions  ;  but  she  had  an  undefined  sense  of  her  inferior 
ity,  a  sense  of  wrong-doing. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  I  hurt  you.  I  did  not  mean 
to." 

Elise  gave  a  quick  look  of  interrogation.  The  look 
showed  sincerity.  Her  voice  softened. 

"  You  didn't  hurt  me ;  you  made  me  mad.  I  can 
help  myself.  They  can't." 

Miss    Hartwell    had    left    her    sketch-book    un- 
[179] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

closed.     An  errant  breath  of  wind  was  fluttering  the 
pages. 

"  What  is  that?  "  Elise  asked.  "  Another  kind  of 
book  to  make  you  tear  up  flowers  ?  "  Her  voice  was 
hard  again. 

Miss  Hartwell  took  up  the  open  book. 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  see  these.  They  may 
atone  for  my  other  wrong-doing." 

Elise  seated  herself  and  received  the  sketches  one 
by  one  as  they  were  handed  to  her.  Hiss  Hartwell  had 
intended  to  make  comments  as  necessity  or  opportu 
nity  seemed  to  demand ;  but  Elise  forestalled  her. 

"  This  is  beautiful ;  only "     She  paused. 

Miss  Hartwell  looked  up. 

^Only  what?" 

Elise  shook  her  head  impatiently. 

"  You've  put  those  horrid  names  on  each  one  of 
them.  They  make  me  think  of  the  ones  you  tore  to 
pieces." 

Miss  Hartwell  stretched  out  her  hand. 

"  Let  me  take  them  for  a  moment,  please." 

Elise  half  drew  them  away,  looking  sharply  at  Miss 
Hartwell.  Then  her  face  softened,  and  she  placed  the 
sketches  in  her  hand.  One  by  one  the  offending  names 
were  removed. 

"  I  think  that  is  better." 

Elise  watched  curiously,  and  her  expression  did  not 
change  with  the  reception  of  the  sketches. 
[180] 


BENDING     THE     TWIG 

"  Don't  you  ever  get  mad  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Sometimes." 

"  That  would  have  made  me  awfully  mad." 

"  But  I  think  you  were  quite  right.  The  names  are 
not  beautiful.  The  flowers  are." 

"  That  wouldn't  make  any  difference  with  me.  I'd 
get  mad  before  I  thought,  and  then  I'd  stick  to  it 
anyway." 

^  That  is  not  right." 

Elise  looked  somewhat  rebuked,  but  more  puzzled. 

"  How  old  are  you  ?  "  she  asked. 

This  was  too  much.  Miss  Hartwell  could  not  con 
ceal  her  astonishment.  She  recovered  quickly  and 
answered,  with  a  smile: 

"  I  was  twenty-five,  last  February." 

Elise  resumed  her  examination  of  the  water-colours. 
There  was  a  look  of  satisfaction  on  her  face. 

"  Oh,  well,  perhaps  when  I  get  to  be  as  old  as  that 
I  won't  get  mad,  either.  How  did  you  learn  to  make 
flowers  ?  "  Her  attention  was  fixed  all  the  time  on  the 
colours. 

"  I  took  lessons." 

"  Is  it  very  hard  to  learn  ?  " 

"  Not  very,  for  some  people.  Would  you  like  to  have 
me  teach  you  ?  " 

Elise's  face  was  flushed  and  eager. 

"  Will  you  teach  me  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Certainly.     It  will  give  me  great  pleasure." 
[181] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

"  When  can  you  begin  ?  " 

"  Now,  if  you  like." 

Miss  Hartwell  had  taste,  and  she  had  been  under 
excellent  instruction.  Her  efforts  had  been  praised 
and  herself  highly  commended ;  but  no  sweeter  incense 
had  ever  been  burned  under  her  nostrils  than  the  in 
tense  absorption  of  her  first  pupil.  It  was  not  genius ; 
it  was  love,  pure  and  simple.  There  was  no  element  of 
self -consciousness,  only  a  wild  love  of  beauty  and  a 
longing  to  give  it  expression.  Nominally,  at  least, 
Miss  Hartwell  was  the  instructor  and  Elise  the  pupil ; 
but  that  did  not  prevent  her  learning  some  lessons 
which  her  other  instructors  had  failed  to  suggest. 
The  comments  of  Elise  on  the  habits  and  peculiarities 
of  every  plant  and  flower  that  they  attempted  demon 
strated  to  Miss  Hartwell  that  the  real  science  of  botany 
was  not  wholly  dependent  upon  forceps  and  scalpel. 
Another  demonstration  was  to  the  effect  that  the  first 
and  hardest  step  in  drawing,  if  not  in  painting,  was  a 
clear-cut  conception  of  the  object  to  be  delineated. 
Elise  knew  her  object.  From  the  first  downy  ball  that 
pushed  its  way  into  the  opening  spring,  to  the  unfold 
ing  of  the  perfect  flower,  every  shade  and  variety  of 
colour  Elise  knew  to  perfection. 

Miss  Hartwell's  lessons  had  been  purely  mechanical. 

She  had  brought  to  them  determination  and  faithful 

application;  but  unconsciously  the  object  had  been 

herself,  not  her  subject,  and  her  work  showed  it.  Elise 

[182] 


BENDING     THE     TWIG 

was  no  genius ;  but  she  was  possessed  of  some  of  its 
most  imperative  essentials,  an  utter  oblivion  of  self 
and  an  abounding  love  of  her  subjects.  Miss  Hartwell 
was  astonished  at  her  easy  grasp  of  details  which  had 
come  to  her  after  much  laborious  effort. 

They  were  aroused  by  the  click  of  iron  shoes  on  the 
stony  trail  as  Firmstone  rode  toward  them. 

He  was  delighted  that  his  first  attempt  at  bringing 
Elise  in  contact  with  Miss  Hartwell  had  been  so  suc 
cessful.  There  was  a  flush  of  pleasure  on  Miss  Hart- 
well's  face. 

"  I  believe  you  knew  I  would  not  be  alone.  Why 
didn't  you  tell  me  about  Elise?  " 

"  Oh,  it's  better  to  let  each  make  his  own  discoveries, 
especially  if  they  are  pleasant." 

Firmstone  looked  at  the  paint-smudged  fingers  of 
Elise.  "  You  refused  my  help  in  square  root,  and 
are  taking  lessons  in  painting  from  Miss  Hart- 
well." 

"  Miss  who?  " 

Firmstone  was  astonished  at  the  change  in  the  girl's 
face. 

"  Miss  Hartwell,"  he  answered. 

Elise  rose  quickly  to  her  feet.  Brush  and  pencil 
fell  unheeded  from  her  lap. 

"Are  you  related  to  that  Hartwell  at  the  mill?" 
she  demanded. 

"  He  is  my  brother." 

[183] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

Fierce  anger  burned  in  the  eyes  of  Elise.  Without 
a  word,  she  turned  and  started  down  the  trail.  Miss 
Hartwell  and  Firmstone  watched  the  retreating  figure 
for  a  moment.  She  was  first  to  recover  from  her  sur 
prise.  She  began  to  gather  the  scattered  papers  which 
Elise  had  dropped.  She  was  utterly  unable  to  suggest 
an  explanation  of  the  sudden  change  that  had  come 
over  Elise  on  hearing  her  name.  Firmstone  was  at 
first  astonished  beyond  measure.  A  second  thought 
cleared  his  mind.  He  knew  that  Hartwell  had  been 
going  of  late  to  the  Blue  Goose.  Elise,  no  doubt,  had 
good  grounds  for  resentment  against  him.  That  it 
should  be  abruptly  extended  to  his  sister  was  no  matter 
of  surprise  to  Firmstone.  Of  course,  to  Miss  Hartwell 
he  could  not  even  suggest  an  explanation.  They  each 
were  wholly  unprepared  for  the  finale  which  came  as 
an  unexpected  sequel. 

A  delicate  little  hand,  somewhat  smudged  with 
paint,  was  held  out  to  Miss  Hartwell,  who,  as  she  took 
the  hand,  looked  up  into  a  resolute  face,  with  drooping 
eyes. 

"  I  got  mad  before  I  thought,  and  I've  come  back 
to  tell  you  that  it  wasn't  right." 

Miss  Hartwell  drew  the  girl  down  beside  her. 

"  Things  always  look  worse  than  they  really  are 
when  one  is  hungry.  Won't  you  share  our  lunch?  " 

With  ready  tact  she  directed  her  words  to  Firm- 
stone,  and  she  was  not  disappointed  in  finding  in  him 
[184] 


BENDING    THE    TWIG 

an  intelligent  second.  Before  many  minutes,  Elise 
had  forgotten  disagreeable  subjects  in  things  which  to 
her  never  lacked  interest. 

At  parting  Elise  followed  the  direct  trail  to  the 
Blue  Goose.  As  Firmstone  had  hoped,  another  series 
of  lessons  was  arranged  for. 


[185] 


CHAPTER    XVI 

An  Insistent  Question 

HAD  Firmstone  been  given  to  the  habit  of  self- 
congratulation  he  would  have  found  ample 
opportunity  for  approbation  in  the  excellent 
manner  with  which  his  plan  for  the  rescue  of  Elise 
was  working  out.  The  companionship  of  Elise  and 
Miss  Hartwell  had  become  almost  constant  in  spite  of 
the  unpropitious  denouement  of  their  first  meeting. 
This  pleased  Firmstone  greatly.  But  there  was 
another  thing  which  this  companionship  thrust  upon 
him  with  renewed  interest.  At  first  it  had  not  been 
prominent.  In  fact,  it  was  quite  overshadowed  while 
Miss  Hartwell's  unconscious  part  in  his  plan  was  in 
doubt.  Now  that  the  doubt  was  removed,  his  personal 
feelings  toward  Elise  came  to  the  front.  He  was 
neither  conceited  nor  a  philanthropist  with  more  en 
thusiasm  than  sense.  He  did  not  attempt  to  conceal 
from  himself  that  philanthropy,  incarnated  in  youth, 
culture,  and  a  recognised  position,  directed  toward  a 
young  and  beautiful  girl  was  in  danger  of  forming 
entangling  alliances,  and  that  these  alliances  could  be 
more  easily  prevented  than  obviated  when  once  formed. 
[186] 


AN     INSISTENT     QUESTION 

Firmstone  was  again  riding  down  from  the  mine. 
He  expected  to  find  Elise  and  Miss  Hartwell  at  the 
Falls,  as  he  had  many  times  of  late.  He  placed 
the  facts  squarely  before  himself.  He  was  hearing  of 
no  one  so  much  as  of  Elise.  Whether  this  was  due  to 
an  awakening  consciousness  on  his  part  or  whether 
his  interest  in  Elise  had  attracted  the  attention  of 
others  he  could  not  decide.  Certain  it  was  that  Miss 
Hartwell  was  continually  singing  her  praise.  Jim, 
who  was  rapidly  recovering  from  his  wounds  and  from 
his  general  shaking  up  at  the  wreck  of  the  stage,  let 
pass  no  opportunity  wherein  he  might  express  his 
opinion. 

"Hell!"  he  remarked.  "I  couldn't  do  that  girl 
dirt  by  up  and  going  dead  after  all  her  trouble.  Ain't 
she  just  fed  me  and  flowered  me  and  coddled  me  gen 
eral?  Gawd  A'mighty!  I  feel  like  a  delicatessen 
shop  'n  a  flower  garden  all  mixed  up  with  angels." 

Bennie  was  equally  enthusiastic,  but  his  shadowing 
gourd  had  a  devouring  worm.  His  commendation  of 
Elise  only  aroused  a  resentful  consciousness  of  the 
Blue  Goose. 

"  It's  the  way  of  the  world,"  he  was  wont  to  remark, 
"  but  it's  a  damned  shame  to  make  a  good  dog  and 
then  worry  him  with  fleas." 

There  was  also  Dago  Joe,  who  ran  the  tram  at  the 
mill.  Joe  had  a  goodly  flock  of  graduated  dagoes  in 
assorted  sizes,  but  his  love  embraced  them  all.  That 
[187] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

the  number  was  undiminished  by  disease  he  credited 
to  Elise,  and  the  company  surgeon  vouched  for  the 
truth  of  his  assertions.  Only  Zephyr  was  persistently 
silent.  This,  however,  increased  Firmstone's  perplex 
ity,  if  it  did  not  confirm  his  suspicions  that  his  interest 
in  Elise  had  attracted  marked  attention.  There  was 
only  one  way  in  which  his  proposed  plan  of  rescue 
could  be  carried  out  that  would  not  eventually  do  the 
girl  more  harm  than  good,  especially  if  she  was  com 
pelled  to  remain  in  Pandora.  Here  was  his  problem — 
one  which  demanded  immediate  solution.  He  was  at 
the  Falls,  unconsciously  preparing  to  dismount,  when 
he  saw  that  neither  Elise  nor  Miss  Hartwell  was  there. 
He  looked  around  a  moment ;  then,  convinced  that  they 
were  absent,  he  rode  on  down  the  trail. 

As  he  entered  the  town  he  noted  a  group  of  boys 
grotesquely  attired  in  miner's  clothes.  Leading  the 
group  was  Joe's  oldest  son,  a  boy  of  about  twelve 
years.  A  miner's  hat,  many  sizes  too  large,  was  on 
his  head,  almost  hiding  his  face.  A  miner's  jacket, 
reaching  nearly  to  his  feet,  completed  his  costume.  In 
his  hand  he  was  swinging  a  lighted  candle.  The  other 
boys  were  similarly  attired,  and  each  had  candles  as 
well.  Firmstone  smiled.  The  boys  were  playing 
miner,  and  were  "  going  on  shift."  He  was  startled 
into  more  active  consciousness  by  shrill  screams  of 
agony.  The  boys  had  broken  from  their  ranks  and 
were  flying  in  every  direction.  Young  Joe,  stagger- 
[188] 


AN  INSISTENT  QUESTION 
ing  behind  them,  was  almost  hidden  by  a  jet  of  flame 
that  seemed  to  spring  from  one  of  the  pockets  of  his 
coat.  The  boy  was  just  opposite  the  Blue  Goose.  Be 
fore  Firmstone  could  spur  his  horse  to  the  screaming 
child  Elise  darted  down  the  steps,  seized  the  boy  with 
one  hand,  with  the  other  tore  the  flames  from  his 
coat  and  threw  them  far  out  on  the  trail.  Firmstone 
knew  what  had  happened.  The  miner  had  left  some 
sticks  of  powder  in  his  coat  and  these  had  caught  fire 
from  the  lighted  candle.  The  flames  from  the  burning 
powder  had  scorched  the  boy's  hand,  licked  across  his 
face,  and  the  coat  itself  had  begun  to  burn,  when  Elise 
reached  him.  She  was  stripping  the  coat  from  the 
screaming  boy  as  Firmstone  sprang  from  his  horse. 
He  took  the  boy  in  his  arms  and  carried  him  up  the 
steps  of  the  Blue  Goose.  Elise,  running  up  the  steps 
before  him,  reappeared  with  oil  and  bandages,  as  he 
laid  the  boy  on  one  of  the  tables.  Pierre  and  Morrison 
came  into  the  barroom  as  Firmstone  and  Elise  began 
to  dress  the  burns.  Morrison  laid  his  hand  roughly 
on  Firmstone's  arm. 

"  You  get  back  to  your  own.    This  is  our  crowd." 
"  Git  hout !     You  bin  kip-still."     Pierre  in  turn 
thrust  Morrison  aside.    "  You  bin  got  hall  you  want, 
Meestaire  Firmstone  ?  " 

"  Take  my  horse  and  go  for  the  doctor." 
Pierre  hastily  left  the  room.     The  clatter  of  hoofs 
showed  that  Firmstone's  order  had  been  obeyed.   Elise 
[189] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

and  Firmstone  worked  busily  at  the  little  sufferer. 
Oil  and  laudanum  had  deadened  the  pain,  and  the 
boy  was  now  sobbing  hysterically ;  Morrison  standing 
by,  glaring  in  helpless  rage. 

Another  clatter  of  hoofs  outside,  and  Pierre  and 
the  company  surgeon  hurried  into  the  room.  The 
boy's  moans  were  stilled  and  he  lay  staring  question- 
ingly  with  large  eyes  at  the  surgeon. 

"  You  haven't  left  me  anything  to  do."  The  surgeon 
turned  approvingly  to  Elise. 

"  Mr.  Firmstone  did  that." 

The  surgeon  laughed. 

"  That's  Elise  every  time.  She's  always  laying  the 
blame  on  someone  else.  Never  got  her  to  own  up  to 
anything  of  this  kind  in  my  life." 

Joe  senior  and  his  wife  came  breathless  into  the 
room.  Mrs.  Joe  threw  herself  on  the  boy  with  all  the 
abandon  of  the  genuine  Latin.  Joe  looked  at  Elise, 
then  dragged  his  wife  aside. 

"  The  boy's  all  right  now,  Joe.  You  can  take  him 
home.  I'll  be  in  to  see  him  later."  The  surgeon 
turned  to  leave  the  room. 

Joe  never  stirred ;  only  looked  at  Elise. 

"  It's  all  right,  Joe." 

The  surgeon  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  mock  de 
spair. 

"  There  it  is  again.  I'm  getting  to  be  of  no  ac 
count." 

[190] 


AN     INSISTENT     QUESTION 

Something  in  Elise's  face  caused  him  to  look  again. 
Then  he  was  at  her  side.  Taking  her  arm,  he  glanced 
at  the  hand  she  was  trying  to  hide. 

"  It  doesn't  amount  to  anything."  Elise  was  try 
ing  to  free  her  arm. 

From  the  palm  up  the  hand  was  red  and  blistered. 

"  Now  I'll  show  my  authority.  How  did  it  hap 
pen?" 

"  The  powder  was  burning.  I  was  afraid  it  might 
explode." 

"What  if  it  had  exploded?  " 

Firmstone  asked  the  question  of  Elise.  She  made 
no  reply.  He  hardly  expected  she  would.  Neverthe 
less  he  did  not  dismiss  the  question  from  his  mind. 
As  he  rode  away  with  the  company  surgeon,  he  asked 
it  over  and  over  again.  Then  he  made  answer  to 
himself. 


[191] 


CHAPTER   XVII 

The  Bearded  Lion 

ZEPHYR  was  doing  some  meditation  on  his 
own  account  after  the  meeting  with  Firmstone 
at  the  Devil's  Elbow. 

That  not  only  Firmstone's  reputation,  but  his  life 
as  well,  hung  in  the  balance,  Zephyr  had  visible  proof. 
This  material  proof  he  was  absently  tipping  from 
hand  to  hand,  during  his  broken  and  unsatisfactory 
interview  with  Firmstone.  It  was  nothing  more  nor 
less  than  a  nickel- j  acketed  bullet  which,  that  very 
morning,  had  barely  missed  his  head,  only  to  flatten 
itself  against  the  rocks  behind  him. 

The  morning  was  always  a  dull  time  at  the  Blue 
Goose.  Morrison  slept  late.  Elise  was  either  with 
Madame  or  rambling  among  the  hills.  Only  Pierre, 
who  seemed  never  to  sleep,  was  to  be  counted  upon 
with  any  certainty. 

By  sunrise  on  the  day  that  Firmstone  and  Miss 
Hartwell  were  riding  to  the  Falls  Zephyr  was  up  and 
on  his  way  to  the  Blue  Goose.  He  found  Pierre  in 
the  bar-room. 

"  Bon  jour,  M'sieur."  Zephyr  greeted  him  affably 
[192] 


THE     BEARDED     LION 

as  he  slowly  sank  into  a  chair  opposite  the  one  in 
which  Pierre  was  seated. 

Pierre,  with  hardly  a  movement  of  his  facial 
muscles,  returned  Zephyr's  salutation.  From  his 
manner  no  one  would  have  suspected  that,  had  some 
one  with  sufficient  reason  inquired  as  to  the  where 
abouts  of  Zephyr,  Pierre  would  have  replied  confi 
dently  that  the  sought-for  person  was  bobbing  down 
the  San  Miguel  with  a  little  round  hole  through  his 
head.  Zephyr's  presence  in  the  flesh  simply  told  him 
that,  for  some  unknown  reason,  his  plan  had  miscar 
ried. 

Zephyr  lazily  rolled  a  cigarette  and  placed  it  be 
tween  his  lips.  He  raised  his  eyes  languidly  to 
Pierre's. 

"  M'sieu  Pierre  mek  one  slick  plan.  Ze  Rainbow 
Company  work  ze  mine,  ze  mill.  Moi,  Pierre,  mek  ze 
gol'  in  mon  cellaire."  Zephyr  blew  forth  the  words 
in  a  cloud  of  smoke. 

Pierre  started  and  looked  around.  His  hand  made 
a  motion  toward  his  hip  pocket.  Zephyr  dropped  his 
bantering  tone. 

"  Not  yet,  Frenchy.  You'll  tip  over  more  soup 
kettles  than  you  know  of."  He  dropped  the  flattened 
bullet  on  the  table  and  pointed  to  it.  "  That  was  a 
bad  break  on  your  part.  It  might  have  been  worse 
for  you  as  well  as  for  me,  if  your  man  hadn't  been  a 
bad  shot." 

[193] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

Pierre  reached  for  the  bullet,  but  Zephyr  gathered 
it  in. 

"  Not  yet,  M'sieur.  It  was  intended  for  me,  and 
I'll  keep  it,  as  a  token  of  respect.  I  know  M'sieur 
Pierre.  Wen  M'sieur  Pierre  bin  mek  up  ze  min'  for 
shoot,  M'sieur  Pierre  bin  say,  '  Comment!  Zat  fellaire 
he  bin  too  damn  smart  pour  moi.'  Thanks!  Me  and 
Firmstone  are  much  obliged." 

Pierre  shrugged  his  shoulders  impatiently.  Zephyr 
noted  the  gesture. 

"  Don't  stop  there,  M'sieur.  Get  up  to  your  head. 
You're  in  a  mess,  a  bad  one.  Shake  your  wits.  Get 
up  and  walk  around.  Explode  some  sacres.  Pull 
out  a  few  handfuls  of  hair  and  scatter  around.  No 
good  looking  daggers.  The  real  thing  won't  work 
on  me,  and  you'd  only  get  in  a  worse  mess  if  it  did. 
That's  Firmstone,  too.  We  both  are  more  valuable  to 
you  alive  than  dead.  Of  what  value  is  it  to  a  man 
to  do  two  others,  if  he  gets  soaked  in  the  neck  him 
self?  " 

Pierre  was  angered.  It  was  useless  to  try  to  con 
ceal  it.  His  swarthy  cheeks  grew  livid. 

"  Sacre!  "  he  blurted.    "  What  you  mean  in  hell?  " 

"  That's  better.  Now  you're  getting  down  to 
business.  When  I  find  a  man  that's  up  against  a 
thing  too  hard  for  him,  I  don't  mind  giving  him  a 
lift." 

"  You  lif  and  bedam !  "  Pierre  had  concluded  that 
[194] 


THE     BEARDED     LION 

pretensions  were  useless  with  Zephyr,  and  he  gave 
his  passion  full  play.  Even  if  he  made  breaks  with 
Zephyr,  he  would  be  no  worse  off. 

"  I'll '  lif ' '  all  right.  '  Bedam  '  is  as  maybe.  Now, 
Frenchy,  if  you'll  calm  yourself  a  bit,  I'll  speak  my 
little  piece.  You've  slated  Firmstone  and  me  for  over 
the  divide.  P'qiwi,  M'sieur?  For  this.  Firmstone 
understands  his  business  and  tends  to  it.  This  inter 
feres  with  your  cellar.  So  Mr.  Firmstone  was  to  be 
fired  by  the  company.  You  steered  that  safe  into  the 
river  to  help  things  along.  You  thought  that  Jim 
would  be  killed  and  Firmstone  would  be  chump  enough 
to  charge  it  to  a  hold-up,  and  go  off  on  a  wrong  scent. 
Jim  got  off,  and  Firmstone  was  going  to  get  the  safe. 
I  know  you  are  kind-hearted  and  don't  like  to  do  folks ; 
but  Firmstone  and  me  were  taking  unwarranted  liber 
ties  with  your  plans.  Now  put  your  ear  close  to  the 
ground,  Frenchy,  and  listen  hard  and  you'll  hear 
something  drop.  If  you  do  Firmstone  you'll  see 
cross-barred  sunlight  the  rest  of  your  days.  I'll  see 
to  that.  If  you  do  us  both  it  won't  make  much  differ 
ence.  I've  been  taking  my  pen  in  hand  for  a  few 
months  back,  and  the  result  is  a  bundle  of  papers  in 
a  safe  place.  It  may  not  be  much  in  a  literary  way ; 
but  it  will  make  mighty  interesting  reading  for  such 
as  it  may  concern,  and  you  are  one  of  them.  Now  let 
me  tell  you  one  thing  more.  If  this  little  damned 
thing  had  gone  through  my  head  on  the  way  to  some- 
[195] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

thing  harder,  in  just  four  days  you'd  be  taking  your 
exercise  in  a  corked  jug.  My  game  is  worth  two  of 
yours.  Mine  will  play  itself  when  I'm  dead;  yours 
won't." 

Pierre's  lips  parted  enough  to  show  his  set  teeth. 

"  Bien!  You  tink  you  bin  damn  smart,  heh  ?  I 
show  you.  You  bin  catch  one  rattlesnake  by  ze  tail. 
Comment?  I  show  you."  Pierre  rose. 

"  Better  wait  a  bit,  Frenchy.  I've  been  giving  you 
some  information.  Now  I'll  give  you  some  instruc 
tions.  You've  been  planning  to  have  Elise  married. 
Don't  do  it.  You've  made  up  your  mind  not  to  keep 
your  promise  to  her  dead  father  and  mother.  You 
just  go  back  to  your  original  intentions.  It  will  be 
good  for  your  body,  and  for  your  soul,  too,  if  you've 
got  any.  You're  smooth  stuff,  Pierre,  too  smooth  to 
think  that  I'm  talking  four  of  a  kind  on  a  bob-tail 
flush.  Comprenny?" 

Pierre's  eyes  lost  their  fierceness,  but  his  face  none 
of  its  determination. 

"  I  ain't  going  to  give  hup  my  li'l  Elise.  Sacre, 
non!  " 

"  That's  for  Elise  to  say.  You've  got  to  give  her 
the  chance." 

There  was  a  moment's  pause.  "  How  you  bin  mek 
me,  heh?"  Pierre  turned  like  a  cat.  There  was  a 
challenge  in  his  words;  but  there  were  thoughts  he 
did  not  voice. 

[196] 


THE     BEARDED     LION 

Zephyr  was  not  to  be  surprised  into  saying  more 
than  he  intended. 

"  That's  a  slick  game,  Pierre ;  but  it  won't  work. 
If  you  want  to  draw  my*  fire,  you'll  have  to  hang 
more  than  an  empty  hat  on  a  stick.  In  plain,  flat 
English,  I've  got  you  cinched.  If  you  want  to  feel 
the  straps  draw,  just  start  in  to  buck." 

Pierre  rose  from  the  table.  His  eyes  were  all  but 
invisible.  There  was  no  ursine  clumsiness  in  his  move 
ments,  as  he  walked  to  and  fro  in  the  barroom.  As 
became  a  feline,  he  walked  in  silence  and  on  his  toes. 
He  was  thinking  of  many  a  shady  incident  in  his  past 
career,  and  he  knew  that  with  the  greater  number  of 
his  shaded  spots  Zephyr  was  more  or  less  familiar. 
With  which  of  them  was  Zephyr  most  familiar,  and 
was  there  any  one  by  means  of  which  Zephyr  could 
thwart  him  by  threatening  exposure?  Pierre's  tread 
became  yet  more  silent.  He  was  half  crouching,  as 
if  ready  for  a  spring.  Zephyr  had  referred  to  the 
cellar.  There  was  his  weakest  spot.  Luna,  the  mill 
foreman,  dozens  of  men,  he  could  name  them  every 
one — all  had  brought  their  plunder  to  the  Blue 
Goose. 

Every  man  who  brought  him  uncoined  gold  was  a 
thief,  and  they  all  felt  safe  because  in  the  eyes  of  the 
law  he,  Pierre,  was  one  of  them.  He  alone  was  not  safe. 
Not  one  of  the  thieves  was  certainly  known  to  the 
others;  he  was  known  to  them  all.  It  could  not  be 
[197] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

helped.  He  had  taken  big  chances;  but  his  reward 
had  been  great  as  well.  That  would  not  help  him,  if — 
Unconsciously  he  crouched  still  lower.  "  If  there's 
any  procession  heading  for  Canon  City  you'll  be  in 
it,  too."  Someone  had  got  frightened.  Luna,  proba 
bly.  Firmstone  was  working  him,  and  Zephyr  was 
helping  Firmstone.  Pierre  knew  well  the  fickle  favour 
of  the  common  man.  A  word  could  destroy  his  loyalty, 
excite  his  fears,  or  arouse  him  to  vengeance.  Burning, 
bitter  hatred  raged  in  the  breast  of  the  little  French 
man.  Exposure,  ruin,  the  penitentiary!  His  hand 
rested  on  the  butt  of  his  revolver  as  he  slowly  turned. 

Zephyr  was  leaning  on  the  table.  There  was  a 
look  of  languid  assurance,  of  insolent  contempt  in  the 
eye  that  was  squinting  along  a  polished  barrel  held 
easily,  but  perfectly  balanced  for  instant  action. 

"  Go  it,  Frenchy."  Zephyr's  voice  was  patronis 
ing. 

Pierre  gave  way  to  the  passion  that  raged  within 
him. 

"  Sacre  nom  du  didble!  Mille  tonnerres!  You  bin 
tink  you  mek  me  scare,  moi,  Pierre !  Come  on,  Mees- 
taire  Zephyr,  come  on!  Fourtin  more  just  like  it! 
Strew  de  piece  hall  roun'  ze  dooryard !  " 

Zephyr's  boots  thumped  applause. 

"  A-a-ah !  Ze  gran'  spectacle!  .  Magnifique!  By 
gar!  She  bin  comedown  firsrate.  Frenchy,  you  have 
missed  your  cue.  Take  the  advice  of  a  friend.  Don't 
[198] 


THE    BEARDED    LION 

stay  here,  putting  addled  eggs  under  a  painted  goose. 
Just  do  that  act  on  the  stage,  and  you'll  have  to  wear 
seven-league  boots  to  get  out  of  the  way  of  rolling 
dollars." 


[199] 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

Winnowed  Chaff 

HARTWELL  had  a  rule  of  conduct.  It  was 
a  Procrustean  bed  which  rarely  fitted  its  sub 
ject.  Unlike  the  originator  of  the  famous 
couch,  Hartwell  never  troubled  himself  to  stretch  the 
one  nor  to  trim  the  other.  If  his  subjects  did  not  fit, 
they  were  cast  aside.  This  was  decision.  The  greater 
the  number  of  the  too  longs  or  the  too  shorts  the 
greater  his  complacence  in  the  contemplation  of  his 
labours.  There  was  one  other  weakness  that  was 
strongly  rooted  within  him.  If  perchance  one  worth 
less  stick  fitted  his  arbitrary  conditions  it  was  from 
then  on  advanced  to  the  rank  of  deity. 

Hartwell  was  strongly  prejudiced  against  Firm- 
stone,  but  was  wholly  without  malice.  He  suspected 
that  Firmstone  was  at  least  self-interested,  if  not  self- 
seeking  ;  therefore  he  assumed  him  to  be  unscrupulous. 
Firmstone's  words  and  actions  v,  ere  either  counted  not 
at  all,  or  balanced  against  him. 

In  approaching  others,  if  words  were  spoken  in  his 
favour,  they  were  discounted  or  discarded  altogether. 
Only  the  facts  that  made  against  him  were  treasured, 
[200] 


WINNOWED     CHAFF 

all  but  enshrined.  Even  in  his  cynical  beliefs  Hart- 
well  was  not  consistent.  He  failed  utterly  to  take  into 
account  that  it  might  suit  the  purpose  of  his  advisers 
to  break  down  the  subject  of  his  inquiry. 

For  these  reasons  the  interview  with  Pierre,  even 
with  its  mortifying  termination,  left  a  firm  conviction 
in  his  mind  that  Firmstone  was  dishonest,  practically 
a  would-be  thief,  and  this  on  the  sole  word  of  a  profes 
sional  gambler,  a  rumshop  proprietor,  a  man  with  no 
heritage,  no  traditions,  and  no  associations  to  hold 
him  from  the  extremities  of  crime. 

Not  one  of  the  men  whom  Hartwell  had  interviewed, 
not  even  Pierre  himself,  would  for  an  instant  have 
considered  as  probable  what  Hartwell  was  holding  as 
an  obvious  truth.  This,  however,  did  not  prevent 
Hartwell's  actions  from  hastening  to  the  point  of  pre 
cipitation  the  very  crisis  he  was  blindly  trying  to 
avert.  He  had  not  discredited  Firmstone  among  the 
men,  he  had  only  nullified  his  power  to  manage  them. 
Hartwell  had  succeeded  in  completing  the  operation  of 
informing  himself  generally.  Having  reached  this 
point,  he  felt  that  the  only  thing  remaining  to  be  done 
was  to  align  his  information,  crush  Firmstone  beneath 
the  weight  of  his  accumulated  evidence,  and  from  his 
dismembered  fragments  build  up  a  superintendent 
who  would  henceforth  walk  and  act  in  the  fear  of 
demonstrated  omniscient  justice.  He  even  grew 
warmly  benevolent  in  the  contemplation  of  the  grate- 
[201] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

fully  reconstructed  man  who  was  to  be  fashioned  after 
his  own  image. 

Firmstone  coincided  with  one  of  Hartwell's  conclu 
sions,  but  from  a  wholly  different  standpoint.  Affairs 
had  reached  a  state  that  no  longer  was  endurable. 
Among  the  men  there  was  no  doubt  whatever  but  that 
it  was  a  question  of  time  only  when  Firmstone,  to  put 
it  in  the  graphic  phrase  of  the  mine,  "  would  be  shot 
in  the  ear  with  a  time  check."  Firmstone  had  no 
benevolent  designs  as  to  the  reconstruction  of  Hart- 
well,  but  he  had  decided  ones  as  to  the  reconstruction 
of  the  company's  affairs.  The  meeting  thus  mutu 
ally  decided  upon  as  necessary  was  soon  brought 
about. 

Firmstone  came  into  the  office  from  a  visit  to  the 
mine.  It  had  been  neither  a  pleasant  nor  a  profitable 
one.  The  contemptuous  disregard  of  his  orders,  the 
coarse  insolence  of  the  men,  and  especially  of  the  fore 
men  and  shift  bosses,  organised  into  the  union  by  Mor 
rison,  had  stung  Firmstone  to  the  quick.  To  combat 
the  disorders  under  present  conditions  would  only  ex 
pose  him  to  insult,  without  any  compensation  what 
ever.  Paying  no  attention  to  words  or  actions,  he  beat 
a  dignified,  unprotesting  retreat.  He  would,  if  pos 
sible,  bring  Hartwell  to  his  senses;  if  not,  he  would 
insist  upon  presenting  his  case  to  the  company.  If 
they  failed  to  support  him  he  would  break  his  con 
tract.  He  disliked  the  latter  alternative,  for  it  meant 


WINNOWED     CHAFF 

the  discrediting  of  himself  or  the  manager.  He  felt 
that  it  would  be  a  fight  to  the  death.  He  found  Hart- 
well  in  the  office. 

"  Well,"  Hartwell  looked  up  abruptly ;  "  how  are 
things  going?  " 

"  Hot  foot  to  the  devil." 

"  Your  recognition  of  the  fact  does  you  credit,  even 
if  the  perception  is  a  little  tardy.  I  think  you  will 
further  recognise  the  fact  that  I  take  a  hand  none 
too  soon."  The  mask  on  Hartwell's  face  grew 
denser. 

"  I  recognise  the  fact  very  clearly  that,  until  you 
came,  the  fork  of  the  trail  was  before  me.  Now  it  is 
behind  and — we  are  on  the  wrong  split." 

"  Precisely.  I  have  come  to  that  conclusion  my 
self.  In  order  to  act  wisely,  I  assume  that  it  will 
be  best  to  get  a  clear  idea  of  conditions,  and  then  we 
can  select  a  remedy  for  those  that  are  making  against 
us.  Do  you  agree  ?  " 

"  I  withhold  assent  until  I  know  just  what  I  am 
expected  to  assent  to." 

Hartwell  looked  annoyed.  "  Shall  I  go  on?  "  he 
asked,  impatiently.  "  Perhaps  your  caution  will  allow 
that." 

Firmstone  nodded.  He  did  not  care  to  trust  himself 
to  words. 

"  Before  we  made  our  contract  with  you  to  assume 
charge  of  our  properties  out  here  I  told  you  very 
[203] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

plainly  the  difficulties  under  which  we  had  hitherto 
laboured,  and  that  I  trusted  that  you  would  find  means 
to  remedy  them.  After  six  months'  trial,  in  which  we 
have  allowed  you  a  perfectly  free  hand,  can  you  con 
scientiously  say  that  you  have  bettered  our  pros 
pects?  " 

Hartwell  paused;  but  Firmstone  kept  silence. 

"Have  you  nothing  to  say  to  this?"  Hartwell 
finally  burst  out. 

"  At  present,  no."  Firmstone  spoke  with  deci 
sion. 

"  When  will  you  have  ?  "  Hartwell  asked. 

"  When  you  are  through  with  your  side." 

Hartwell  felt  annoyed  at  what  he  considered  Firm- 
stone's  obstinacy.  "  Well,"  he  said ;  "  then  I  shall 
have  to  go  my  own  gait.  You  can't  complain  if  it 
doesn't  suit  you.  In  your  reports  to  the  company 
you  have  complained  of  the  complete  disorganisation 
which  you  found  here.  That  this  disorganisation  re 
sulted  in  inefficiency  of  labour,  that  the  mine  was  run 
down,  the  mill  a  wreck,  and,  worst  of  all,  that  there 
was  stealing  going  on  which  prevented  the  richest  ore 
reaching  the  mill,  and  that  even  the  products  of  the 
mill  were  stolen.  You  laid  the  stealing  to  the  door 
of  the  Blue  Goose.  You  stated  for  fact  things  which 
you  acknowledged  you  could  not  prove.  That  the 
proprietor  of  the  Blue  Goose  was  striving  to  stir  up 
revolt  among  the  men,  to  organise  them  into  a  union 


WINNOWED     CHAFF 

in  order  that  through  this  organised  union  the  Blue 
Goose  might  practically  control  the  mine  and  rob  the 
company  right  and  left.  You  pointed  out  that  in 
your  opinion  many  of  the  men,  even  in  the  organisa 
tion,  were  honest;  that  it  was  only  a  scheme  on  the 
part  of  Morrison  and  Pierre  to  dupe  the  men,  to  blind 
their  eyes  so  that,  believing  themselves  imposed  on  and 
robbed  by  the  company,  they  would  innocently  furnish 
the  opportunity  for  the  Blue  Goose  to  carry  on  its 
system  of  plundering." 

Firmstone's  steady  gaze  never  flinched,  as  Hartwell 
swept  on  with  his  arraignment. 

"  In  all  your  reports,  you  have  without  exception 
laid  the  blame  upon  your  predecessors,  upon  others 
outside  the  company.  Never  in  a  single  instance  have 
you  expressed  a  doubt  as  to  your  own  conduct  of 
affairs.  The  assumed  robbery  of  the  stage  I  will  pass 
by.  Other  points  I  shall  dwell  upon.  You  trust  no 
one.  You  have  demonstrated  that  to  the  men.  You 
give  orders  at  the  mine,  and  instead  of  trusting  your 
foremen  to  see  that  they  are  carried  out  you  almost 
daily  insist  upon  inspecting  their  work  and  interfer 
ing  with  it.  The  same  thing  I  find  to  be  true  at  the 
mill.  Day  and  night  you  pounce  in  upon  them.  Now 
let  me  ask  you  this.  If  you  understand  men,  if  you 
know  your  business  thoroughly,  ought  you  not  to 
judge  whether  the  men  are  rendering  an  equivalent 
for  their  pay,  without  sub j  ecting  them  to  the  humilia- 
[205] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

tion  of  constant  espionage?"  He  looked  fixedly  at 
Firmstone,  as  he  ended  his  arraignment. 

Firmstone  waited,  if  perchance  Hartwell  had  not 
finished. 

"  Is  your  case  all  in  ?  "  he  finally  asked. 

"  For  the  present,  yes."  Hartwell  snapped  his 
jaws  together  decidedly. 

"  Then  I'll  start." 

"  Wait  a  moment,  right  there,"  Hartwell  inter 
rupted. 

"  No.  I  will  not  wait.  I  am  going  right  on. 
You've  been  informing  yourself  generally.  Now  I'm 
going  to  inform  you  particularly.  In  the  first  place, 
how  did  you  find  out  that  I  had  been  subjecting  the 
men  to  this  humiliating  espionage,  as  you  call  it  ?  " 
Firmstone  waited  for  a  reply. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  am  under  obligations  to 
answer  that  question,"  Hartwell  replied,  stiffly. 

"  Then  I'll  answer  it  for  you.  You've  been  to  my 
foremen,  my  shift  bosses,  my  workmen;  you've  been, 
above  all  other  places,  to  the  Blue  Goose.  You've  been 
to  anyone  and  everyone  whose  interest  it  is  to  weaken 
my  authority  and  to  render  me  powerless  to  combat 
the  very  evils  of  which  you  complain." 

Hartwell  started  to  interrupt ;  but  Firmstone  waved 
him  to  silence. 

"  This  is  a  vital  point.  One  thing  more :  instead  of 
acquiring  information  as  to  the  conditions  that  con- 
[206] 


WINNOWED     CHAFF 

front  me  and  about  my  method  of  handling  them,  you 
go  to  my  enemies,  get  their  opinions  and,  what  is 
worse,  act  upon  them  as  your  own." 

"  Wait  a  minute  right  there."  Hartwell  spoke  im 
periously.  "  You  speak  of  '  my  foremen  '  and  *  my 
shift  bosses.'  They  are  not  your  men ;  they  are  ours. 
We  pay  them,  and  we  are  going  to  see  to  it  that  we 
get  an  equivalent  return,  in  any  way  we  think  advis 
able."  Hartwell  ignored  Firmstone's  last  words. 

"  That  may  be  your  position.  If  it  is  it  is  not  a 
wise  one,  and,  what  is  more,  it  is  not  tenable.  You  put 
me  out  here  to  manage  your  business,  and  you  hold 
me  responsible  for  results.  I  ask  from  you  the  same 
consideration  I  give  to  my  foremen.  I  do  not  hire  a 
single  man  at  the  mine  or  mill;  my  foremen  attend 
to  that.  I  give  my  orders  direct  to  my  foremen,  and 
hold  them  strictly  responsible.  The  men  are  respon 
sible  to  my  foremen,  my  foremen  are  responsible  to  me, 
and  I  in  turn  am  wholly  responsible  to  you.  If  in 
one  single  point  you  interfere  with  my  organisation 
I  not  only  decline  to  assume  any  responsibility  what 
ever,  but,  farther,  I  shall  tender  my  resignation  at 
once." 

Hartwell  listened  impatiently,  but  nevertheless 
Firmstone's  words  were  not  without  effect.  They 
appealed  to  his  judgment  as  being  justified;  but  to 
accept  them  and  act  upon  them  meant  a  repudiation 
of  his  own  course.  For  this  he  was  not  ready.  In 
[207] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

addition  to  his  vanity,  Hartwell  had  an  abiding  faith 
in  his  own  shrewdness.  He  was  casting  about  in  his 
mind  for  a  plausible  delay  which  would  afford  him 
time  to  retreat  from  his  position  without  a  confession 
of  defeat.  He  could  find  none.  Firmstone  had  pre 
sented  a  clean-cut  ultimatum.  He  was  in  an  un 
pleasant  predicament.  Some  one  would  have  to  be 
sacrificed.  He  was  wholly  determined  that  it  should 
not  be  himself.  Perhaps  after  all  it  would  be  better 
to  arrange  as  best  he  might  with  Firmstone,  rather 
than  have  it  go  farther. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Firmstone,  as  if  you  were  going 
altogether  too  fast.  There's  no  use  jumping.  Why 
not  talk  this  over  sensibly  ?  " 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  to  be  considered.  If  you 
are  going  to  manage  this  place  I  am  going  to  put  it 
beyond  your  power  even  to  make  me  appear  respon 
sible." 

"  You  forget  your  contract  with  us,"  Hartwell  in 
terposed. 

"  I  do  not  forget  it.  If  you  discharge  me,  or  force 
me  to  resign,  I  still  demand  a  hearing." 

Hartwell  was  disturbed,  and  his  manner  showed  it. 
Firmstone  presented  two  alternatives.  Forcing  a 
choice  of  either  of  them  would  bring  unpleasant  con 
sequences  upon  himself.  Was  it  necessary  to  force 
the  choice? 

"  Suppose  I  do  neither?  "  he  asked. 
[208] 


WINNOWED     CHAFF 

"  That  will  not  avert  the  consequences  of  what  you 
have  already  done." 

"  Are  you  determined  to  resign  ?  "  Hartwell  asked, 
uneasily. 

"  That  is  not  what  I  meant." 

"  What  did  you  mean,  then?  " 

"  This.  Before  you  came  out,  I  had  things  well 
in  hand.  In  another  month  I  would  have  had  control 
of  the  men,  and  the  property  would  have  been  paying 

a  good  dividend.  As  it  is  now "  Firmstone 

waved  his  hand,  as  if  to  dismiss  a  useless  subject. 

"  Well,  what  now  ?  "  Hartwell  asked,  after  a  pause. 

"  It  has  to  be  done  all  over  again,  only  under 
greater  difficulties,  the  outcome  of  which  I  cannot 
foresee." 

"  To  what  difficulties  do  you  refer?  "  Firmstone's 
manner  disturbed  Hartwell. 

"  The  men  were  getting  settled.  Now  you  have 
played  into  the  hands  of  two  of  the  most  unscrupulous 
rascals  in  Colorado.  Between  you,  you've  got  the 
men  stirred  up  to  a  point  where  a  strike  is  inevitable." 
For  a  time,  Hartwell  was  apparently  crushed  by 
Firmstone's  unanswerable  logic,  as  well  as  by  his 
portentous  forecasts.  He  could  not  but  confess  to 
himself  that  his  course  of  action  looked  very  different 
under  Firmstone's  analysis  than  from  his  own  stand 
point  alone.  He  drummed  his  fingers  listlessly  on  the 
desk  before  him.  He  was  all  but  convinced  that  he 
[209] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

might  have  been  wrong  in  his  judgment  of  Firmstone, 
after  all.  Then  Pierre's  suggestions  came  to  him  like 
a  flash. 

"  You  are  aware,  of  course,  that  I  shall  have  to 
make  a  full  report  of  the  accident  to  the  stage  to  our 
directors  ?  " 

"  I  made  a  report  of  all  the  facts  in  the  case,  at  the 
time.  Of  course,  if  you  have  discovered  other  facts, 
they  will  have  to  be  given  in  addition." 

Hartwell  continued,  paying  no  attention  to  Firm- 
stone. 

"  That  in  the  report  which  I  shall  make,  I  may 
feel  compelled  to  arrange  my  data  in  such  a  manner 
that  they  will  point  to  a  conclusion  somewhat  at  vari 
ance  with  yours  ?  " 

"  In  which  case,"  interrupted  Firmstone ;  "  I  shall 
claim  the  right  to  another  and  counter  statement." 

Hartwell  looked  even  more  intently  at  Firmstone. 

"  In  your  report  you  stated  positively  that  there 
were  three  thousand,  one  hundred  and  twenty-five 
ounces  of  bullion  in  your  shipment ;  that  this  amount 
was  lost  in  the  wreck  of  the  stage." 

"  Exactly." 

Hartwell  leaned  forward,  his  eyes  still  fixed  on 
Firmstone's  eyes.  Then,  after  a  moment's  pause,  he 
asked,  explosively, — 

"  Was  there  that  amount?  " 

Firmstone's  face  had  a  puzzled  look. 
[210] 


WINNOWED     CHAFF 

"  There  certainly  was,  unless  I  made  a  mistake  in 
weighing  up."  His  brows  contracted  for  a  moment, 
then  cleared  decisively.  "  That  is  not  possible.  The 
total  checked  with  my  weekly  statements." 

Hartwell  settled  back  in  his  chair.  There  was  a 
look  of  satisfied  cunning  on  his  face.  He  had  gained 
his  point.  He  had  attacked  Firmstone  in  an  unex 
pected  quarter,  and  he  had  flinched.  He  had  no  fur 
ther  doubts.  This,  however,  was  not  enough.  He 
would  press  the  brimming  cup  of  evidence  to  his  vic 
tim's  lips  and  compel  him  to  drink  it  to  the  last  drop. 

"  Who  saw  you  put  the  bullion  in  the  safe  ?  " 

"  No  one." 

"  Then,  if  the  safe  is  never  recovered,  we  have  only 
your  word  that  the  bullion  was  put  in  there,  as  you 
stated?" 

Firmstone  was  slowly  realising  Hartwell's  drift. 
Slowly,  because  the  idea  suggested  appeared  too 
monstrous  to  be  tenable.  The  purple  veins  on  his 
forehead  were  hard  and  swollen. 

"  That  is  all,"  he  said,  from  between  compressed 
lips. 

"  Under  the  circumstances,  don't  you  think  it  is  of 
the  utmost  importance  that  the  safe  be  recovered  ?  " 

"  Under  any  circumstances.     I  have  already  taken 
all  the  steps  possible  in  that  direction."     Firmstone 
breathed  easier.     He  saw,  as  he  thought,  the  error  of  . 
his  other  half-formed  suspicion.     Hartwell  was  about 
[211] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

to  suggest  that  Zephyr  should  not  be  alone  in  guard 
ing  the  river. 

Hartwell  again  leaned  forward.  He  spoke  medi 
tatively,  but  his  eyes  were  piercing  in  their  intensity. 

"  Yes.  If  in  the  event  of  the  unexpected,"  he  em 
phasised  the  word  with  a  suggestive  pause,  "  recovery 
of  the  safe,  it  should  be  found  not  to  contain  that 
amount,  in  fact,  nothing  at  all,  what  would  you  have 
to  say?" 

Every  fibre  of  Firmstone's  body  crystallised  into 
hard  lines.  Slowly  he  rose  to  his  feet.  Pale  to  the 
lips,  he  towered  over  the  general  manager.  Slowly 
his  words  fell  from  set  lips. 

"What  have  I  to  say?  "he  repeated.  "This.  That, 
if  I  stooped  to  answer  such  a  question,  I  should  put 
myself  on  the  level  of  the  brutal  idiot  who  asked  it." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

The  Fly  in  the  Ointment 

AT  last  the  union  was  organised  at  mill  and 
mine. 
The  men  had  been  duly  instructed  as  to  the 
burden  of  their  wrongs  and  the  measures  necessary 
for  redress.  They  had  been  taught  that  all  who  were 
not  for  them  were  against  them,  and  that  scabs  were 
traitors  to  their  fellows,  that  heaven  was  not  for  them, 
hell  too  good  for  them,  and  that  on  earth  they  only 
crowded  the  deserving  from  their  own.  In  warning 
his  fellows  against  bending  the  knee  to  Baal,  Morri 
son  did  not  feel  it  incumbent  upon  him  to  state  that 
there  was  a  whole  sky  full  of  other  heathen  deities, 
and  that,  in  turning  from  one  deity  to  make  obeisance 
to  another,  they  might  miss  the  one  true  God.  He  did 
not  even  take  the  trouble  to  state  that  there  was  a 
chance  for  wise  selection — that  it  was  better  to  wor 
ship  Osiris  than  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  Moloch. 

With  enthusiasm,  distilled  as  much  from  Pierre's 
whisky    as    from    Morrison's    wisdom,    the    men    had 
elected  Morrison  leader,  and  now  awaited  his   com- 
[213] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

mands.  Morrison  had  decided  on  a  strike.  This 
would  demonstrate  his  power  and  terrify  his  oppo 
nents.  There  was  enough  shrewdness  in  him  to  select 
a  plausible  excuse.  He  knew  very  well  that  even 
among  his  most  ardent  adherents  there  was  much 
common  sense  and  an  inherent  perception  of  justice; 
that,  while  this  would  not  stand  in  the  way  of  pre 
cipitating  a  strike,  it  might  prevent  its  perfect  fru 
ition.  Whatever  his  own  convictions,  Morrison  felt 
intuitively  that  ideas  in  the  minds  of  the  majority  of 
men  were  but  characters  written  on  sand  which  the 
first  sweep  of  washing  waves  would  wipe  out  and  leave 
motiveless ;  that  others  must  stand  by  with  ready 
stylus,  to  write  again  and  again  that  which  was  swept 
away.  In  other  words,  he  must  have  aides;  that 
these  aides,  if  they  were  to  remain  steadfast,  must 
be  thinking  men,  impressed  with  the  justice  of  their 
position. 

Hartwell  had  supplied  just  the  motive  that  was 
needed.  As  yet,  it  was  not  apparent ;  but  it  was  on 
the  way.  When  it  arrived  there  would  be  no  doubt 
of  its  identity,  or  the  course  of  action  which  must  then 
be  pursued.  Morrison  was  sure  that  it  would  come, 
was  sure  of  the  riot  that  would  follow.  His  face 
darkened,  flattened  to  the  similitude  of  a  serpent  about 
to  strike. 

There  was  a  flaw  in  Morrison's  otherwise  perfect 
fruit.  Where  hitherto  had  been  the  calm  of  undis- 


THE    FLY     IN    THE     OINTMENT 

puted  possession  was  now  the  rage  of  baffled  desire. 
Aside  from  momentary  resentment  at  Elise's  first  in 
terview  with  Firmstone,  the  fact  had  made  little  im 
pression  on  him.  As  Pierre  ruled  his  household,  even 
so  he  intended  to  rule  his  own,  and,  according  to  Mor 
rison's  idea  of  the  conventional,  a  temporary  trifling 
with  another  man  was  one  of  the  undeniable  perqui 
sites  of  an  engaged  girl.  Morrison  had  been  too  sure 
of  himself  to  feel  a  twinge  of  jealousy,  rather  consid 
ering  such  a  course  of  action,  when  not  too  frequently 
indulged,  an  additional  tribute  to  his  own  personality. 
What  Morrison  mistook  for  love  was  only  passion. 
It  was  honourable,  insomuch  as  he  intended  to  make 
Elise  his  wife. 

Morrison  ascribed  only  one  motive  to  the  subsequent 
meetings  which  he  knew  took  place  between  Elise  and 
Firmstone.  Elise  was  drifting  farther  and  farther 
from  him,  in  spite  of  all  that  he  could  do.  "  Rowing," 
as  he  expressed  it,  had  not  been  of  infrequent  occur 
rence  between  himself  and  Elise  before  Firmstone  had 
appeared  on  the  scene ;  but  on  such  occasions  Elise  had 
been  as  ready  for  a  "  mix-up  "  as  she  was  now  anxious 
to  avoid  one.  There  was  another  thing  to  which  he 
could  not  close  his  eyes.  There  had  been  defiance, 
hatred,  an  eager  fierceness,  both  in  attack  and  defence, 
which  was  now  wholly  lacking.  On  several  recent 
occasions  he  had  sought  a  quarrel  with  Elise;  but 
while  she  had  stood  her  ground,  there  was  a  contempt 
[215] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

in  her  manner,  her  eyes,  her  voice,  which  could  not 
do  otherwise  than  attract  his  attention. 

To  do  Morrison  the  justice  which  he  really  deserved, 
there  was  in  him  as  much  of  love  for  Elise  as  his 
nature  was  capable  of  harbouring  for  any  one  outside 
himself.  He  looked  upon  her  as  his  own,  and  he  was 
defending  this  idea  of  possession  with  the  same  pug 
nacity  that  he  would  protect  his  dollars  from  a  thief. 
Morrison  had  been  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  Elise 
was  lost  to  him.  Hitherto  Firmstone  had  been  an 
impersonal  obstacle  in  his  path.  Now —  The  eyes 
narrowed  to  a  slit,  the  venomous  lips  were  compressed. 
Morrison  was  a  beast.  Only  the  vengeance  of  a  beast 
could  wipe  out  the  disgrace  that  had  been  forced  upon 
him. 

In  reality  Elise  was  only  a  child.  Unpropitious  and 
uncongenial  as  had  been  her  surroundings  to  her  finer 
nature,  these  had  only  retarded  development;  they 
had  not  killed  the  germ.  Her  untrammelled  life  had 
been  natural,  but  hardly  neutral.  To  put  conditions 
in  a  word,  her  undirected  life  had  stored  up  an  abun 
dant  supply  of  nourishing  food  that  would  thrust  into 
vigorous  life  the  dormant  germ  of  noble  womanhood 
when  the  proper  time  should  come.  There  had  been 
no  hot-house  forcing,  but  the  natural  growth  of  the 
healthy,  hardy  plant  which  would  battle  successfully 
the  storms  that  were  bound  to  come. 

In  the  cramped  and  sordid  lives  which  had  sur 
[216] 


THE     FLY     IN     THE     OINTMENT 

rounded  her  there  was  much  to  repel  and  little  to 
attract.  The  parental  love  of  Pierre  was  strong  and 
fierce,  but  it  was  animal,  it  was  satiating,  selfish,  and 
undemonstrative.  Hence  Elise  was  almost  wholly  un 
conscious  of  its  existence.  As  for  Madame,  hers  was 
a  love  unselfish;  but  dominated  and  overshadowed,  in 
terror  of  her  husband,  she  stood  in  but  little  less  awe 
of  Elise.  These  two,  the  one  selfish,  with  strength  of 
mind  sufficient  to  bend  others  to  his  purposes,  the  other 
unselfish,  but  with  every  spontaneous  emotion  re 
pressed  by  stronger  personalities,  exerted  an  uncon 
scious  but  corresponding  influence  upon  their  equally 
unconscious  ward.  These  manifestations  were  animal, 
and  in  Elise  they  met  with  an  animal  response.  She 
felt  the  domineering  strength  of  Pierre,  but  without 
awe  she  defied  it.  She  felt  the  unselfish  and  timorous 
love  of  Madame.  She  trampled  it  beneath  her  childish 
feet,  or  yielded  to  a  storm  of  repentant  emotion  that 
overwhelmed  and  bewildered  its  timid  recipient.  She 
was  surrounded  and  imbued  with  emotions,  unguided, 
un analysed,  misunderstood,  that  rose  supreme,  or 
were  blotted  out  as  the  strength  of  the  individual  was 
equal  to  or  inferior  to  its  opposition.  They  were 
animal  emotions  that  one  moment  would  lick  and  caress 
and  fight  to  the  death,  the  next  in  a  moment  of  rage 
would  smite  to  the  earth.  As  Elise  approached 
womanhood,  these  emotions  were  intensified,  but  were 
otherwise  unmodified.  There  was  another  element 
[217] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

which  came  as  a  natural  temporal  sequence.  She  had 
seen  with  unseeing  eyes  young  girls  given  in  marriage ; 
she  had  no  question  but  that  a  like  fate  was  in  store  for 
her.  So  it  happened  that  when  Pierre,  announcing  to 
her  her  sixteenth  birthday,  had  likewise  broached  the 
subject  of  marriage  she  opposed  it  not  on  rational 
grounds  but  simply  on  general  principles.  She  was 
not  at  first  conscious  of  any  objections  to  Morrison. 
Being  ignorant  of  marriage  she  had  no  grounds  upon 
which  to  base  a  choice.  To  her  Morrison  was  no  better 
and  no  worse  than  any  other  man  she  had  met.  Mor 
rison  was  perfectly  right  in  his  assumptions.  Had  not 
circumstances  interfered,  in  the  end  he  would  have 
had  his  way.  Morrison  was  also  perfectly  wrong. 
Elise  was  not  Madame  in  any  sense  of  the  word.  His 
reign  would  have  been  at  least  troubled,  if  not  in  the 
end  usurped.  The  first  circumstance  which  had 
already  interfered  to  prevent  the  realisation  of  his 
desire  was  one  which,  very  naturally,  would  be  the 
last  to  appeal  to  him.  This  circumstance  was 
Zephyr. 

From  the  earliest  infancy  of  Elise,  Zephyr  had  been, 
in  a  way,  her  constant  guardian  and  companion.  With 
enough  strength  of  character  to  make  him  fearless, 
it  was  insufficient  to  arouse  the  ambition  to  carve  out 
a  distinctive  position  for  himself.  He  absorbed  and 
mastered  whatever  came  in  his  way,  but  there  his  am 
bition  ceased.  He  was  respected  and,  to  a  certain 
[218] 


THE    FLY     IN     THE     OINTMENT 

extent,  feared,  even  by  those  who  were  naturally  pos 
sessed  of  stronger  natures. 

There  may  be  something  in  the  fabled  power  of  the 
human  eye  to  cow  a  savage  beast,  but  unfortunately 
it  will  probably  never  be  satisfactorily  demonstrated. 
A  man  confronted  with  the  beast  will  invariably  and 
instinctively  trust  to  his  concrete  "  44  "  rather  than  to 
the  abstract  force  of  human  magnetism.  Yet  there  is 
a  germ  of  truth  in  the  proverbial  statement.  Brought 
face  to  face  with  his  human  antagonist,  the  think 
ing  man  always  stands  in  fear  of  himself,  of  his 
sense  of  justice,  while  the  brute  in  his  opponent  has 
no  scruples  and  no  desires  save  those  of  personal 
triumph. 

These  things  Elise  did  not  see.  The  things  she 
saw  which  appealed  to  her  and  influenced  her  were, 
first  of  all,  Zephyr's  fearlessness  of  others  who  were 
feared,  his  good-natured,  philosophical  cynicism  which 
ridiculed  foibles  that  he  did  not  feel  called  upon  to 
combat,  his  protecting  love  for  her  which  was  always 
considerate  but  never  obsequious,  which  was  unre- 
straining  yet  restrained  her  in  the  end.  Against  his 
cynical  stoicism  the  waves  of  her  childish  rage  beat 
themselves  to  calm,  or,  hurt  and  wounded,  she  wept  out 
her  childish  sorrows  in  his  comforting  arms.  The 
protecting  value  of  it  she  did  not  know,  but  in 
Zephyr,  and  that  was  the  only  name  by  which  she 
knew  him,  was  the  only  untrammelled  outlet  for  every 
[219] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

passion  of  her  childish  as  well  as  for  her  maturing 
soul. 

Zephyr  alone  would  have  thwarted  Morrison's  de 
signs  on  Elise.  But  Morrison  despised  Zephyr,  even 
though  he  feared  him.  Zephyr  in  a  neutral  way  had 
preserved  Elise  from  herself  and  from  her  surround 
ings.  Neutral,  because  his  efforts  were  conserving,  not 
developmental.  Neutral,  for,  while  he  could  keep  her 
feet  from  straying  in  paths  of  destruction,  he  had 
through  ignorance  been  unable  to  guide  them  in  ways 
that  led  to  a  higher  life. 

This  mission  had  been  left  to  Firmstone.  Not  that 
Zephyr's  work  had  been  less  important,  for  the  hand 
that  fallows  ground  performs  as  high  a  mission  as  the 
hand  that  sows  the  chosen  seed.  Unconsciously  at 
first,  Firmstone  had  opened  the  eyes  of  Elise  to  vistas, 
to  possibilities  which  hitherto  had  been  undreamed  of. 
It  mattered  little  that  as  yet  she  saw  men  as  trees,  the 
great  and  saving  fact  remained,  her  eyes  were  opened 
and  she  saw. 

Morrison's  eyes  were  also  opened.  He  saw  first  the 
growing  influence  of  Firmstone  and  later  the  associa 
tion  of  Elise  with  Miss  Hartwell.  He  could  not  see 
that  Elise,  with  the  influence  of  Firmstone,  was  an  im 
possibility  to  him.  Like  a  venomous  serpent  that 
strikes  blindly  at  the  club  and  not  at  the  man  who 
wields  it,  Morrison  concentrated  the  full  strength  of 
his  rage  against  Firmstone. 

[220] 


THE     FLY     IN     THE     OINTMENT 

Perhaps  no  characterisation  of  Elise  could  be 
stronger  than  the  bald  statement  that  as  yet  she  was 
entirely  oblivious  of  self.  The  opening  vistas  of  a 
broader,  higher  life  were  too  absorbing,  too  intoxicat 
ing  in  themselves,  to  permit  the  intrusion  of  the  dis 
turbing  element  of  personality.  Her  eager  absorption 
of  the  minutest  detail,  her  keen  perception  of  the 
slightest  discordant  note,  pleased  Miss  Hartwell  as 
much  as  it  delighted  Firmstone. 

Elise  was  as  spontaneous  and  unreserved  with  the 
latter  as  with  the  former.  She  preferred  Firmstone's 
company  because  with  him  was  an  unconscious  per 
sonality  that  met  her  own  on  even  terms.  Firmstone 
loved  strength  and  beauty  for  themselves,  Miss  Hart- 
well  for  the  personal  pleasure  they  gave  her.  She 
was  flattered  by  the  childish  attention  which  was  ten 
dered  her  and  piqued  by  the  obvious  fact  that  her 
personality  had  made  only  a  slight  impression  upon 
Elise  as  compared  with  that  of  Firmstone. 

This  particular  afternoon  Elise  was  returning  from 
a  few  hours  spent  with  Miss  Hartwell  at  the  Falls. 
It  had  been  rather  unsatisfactory  to  both.  As  the 
sun  began  to  sink  behind  the  mountain  they  had 
started  down  the  trail  together,  but  the  walk  was  a 
silent  one.  Miss  Hartwell  had  a  slight  flush  of  annoy 
ance.  Elise,  sober  and  puzzled,  was  absorbed  by 
thoughts  that  were  as  yet  undifferentiated  and  uniden 
tified.  They  parted  at  the  Blue  Goose. 
[221] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

* 

Elise  turned  at  the  steps  and  entered  by  the  back 

door.  Morrison  was  watching,  unseen  by  either.  He 
noted  Elise's  path,  and  as  she  entered  he  confronted 
her.  Elise  barely  noticed  him  and  was  preparing  to 
go  upstairs.  Morrison  divined  her  intention  and 
barred  her  way. 

"  You're  getting  too  high-toned  for  common  folks, 
ain't  you?  " 

Elise  paused  perforce.  There  was  a  struggling 
look  in  her  eyes.  Her  thoughts  had  been  too  far  away 
from  her  surroundings  to  allow  of  an  immediate  re 
turn.  She  remained  silent.  The  scowl  on  Morrison's 
face  intensified. 

"  When  you're  Mrs.  Morrison,  you  won't  go  traps 
ing  around  with  no  high-toned  bosses  and  female 
dudes  more  than  once.  I'll  learn  you." 

Elise  came  back  with  a  crash. 

"  Mrs.  Morrison !  "  She  did  not  speak  the  words, 
she  shrank  from  them  and  left  them  hanging  in  their 
self-polluted  atmosphere.  "  Learn  me !  "  The  words 
were  vibrant  with  a  low-pitched  hum,  that  smote  and 
bored  like  the  impact  of  an  electric  wave.  "  You — 
you — snake ;  you — how  dare  you !  " 

Morrison  did  not  flinch.  The  blind  fury  of  a  dared 
beast  flamed  in  his  eyes. 

"  Dare,  you  vixen !  I'll  make  you,  or  break  you ! 
I've  been  in  too  many  scraps  and  smelled  too  much 


THE     FLY     IN     THE     OINTMENT 

powder  to  get  scared  by  a  hen  that's  trying  to 
crow." 

The  animal  was  dominant  in  Elise.  Fury  personi 
fied  flew  at  Morrison. 

"  You'll  teach  me ;  will  you  ?  I'll  teach  you  the 
difference  between  a  hen  and  a  wild  cat." 

The  door  from  the  kitchen  was  opened  and  Madame 
came  in.  She  flung  herself  between  Elise  and  Mor 
rison.  The  repressed  timorous  love  of  years  flamed 
upon  the  thin  cheeks,  flashed  from  the  faded  eyes. 
There  was  no  trace  of  fear.  Her  slight  form  fairly 
shook  with  the  intensity  of  her  passion. 

"  Go!  Go!  Go!  "  The  last  was  uttered  in  a  voice 
little  less  than  a  shriek.  "  Don't  you  touch  Elise.  She 
is  mine.  Why  don't  you  go?  " 

Her  trembling  hands  pushed  Morrison  toward  the 
open  door.  Bewildered,  staggered,  cowed,  he  slunk 
from  the  room.  Madame  closed  the  door.  She  turned 
toward  Elise.  The  passion  had  receded,  only  the 
patient  pleading  was  in  her  eyes. 

The  next  instant  she  saw  nothing.  Her  head  was 
crushed  upon  Elise's  shoulder,  the  clasping  arms 
careseed  and  bound,  and  hot  cheeks  were  pressed 
against  her  own.  Another  instant  and  she  was  pushed 
into  a  chair.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life,  Madame's 
hungry  heart  was  fed.  Elise  loved  her.  That  was 
enough. 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

The  westward  sinking  sun  had  drawn  the  veil  of 
darkness  up  from  the  greying  east.  Its  cycles  of  wax 
ing  and  waning  were  measured  by  the  click  of  ten- 
sioned  springs  and  beat  of  swinging  pendulums.  But 
in  the  growing  darkness  another  sun  was  rising,  its 
cycles  measured  by  beating  hearts  to  an  unending 
day. 


CHAPTER  XX 

The  River  Gives  up  its  Prey 

BECAUSE  Zephyr  saw  a  school  of  fishes  dis 
porting  themselves  in  the  water,  this  never 
diverted  his  attention  from  the  landing  of  the 
fish  he  had  hooked. 

This  principle  of  his  life  he  was  applying  to  a  par 
ticular  event.  The  river  had  been  closely  watched; 
now,  at  last,  his  fish  was  hooked.  The  landing  it  was 
another  matter.  He  needed  help.  He  went  for  it. 

Zephyr  found  Bennie  taking  his  usual  after-dinner 
nap. 

"  Julius  Benjamin,  it's  the  eleventh  hour,95  he  be 
gan,  indifferently. 

Bennie  interrupted  i 

"  The  eleventh  hour !  It's  two  o'clock,  and  the  time 
you  mention  was  born  three  hours  ago.  What  new 
kind  of  bug  is  biting  you?  " 

Zephyr  studiously  rolled  a  cigarette. 

"  Your  education  is  deficient,  Julius.     You  don't 

know  your  Bible,  and  you  don't  know  the  special  force 

of  figurative  language.     I'm  sorry  for  you,  Julius, 

but  having  begun  I'll  see  it  through.     Having  put 

[225] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

my  hand  to  the  plough,  which  is  also  figuratively 
speaking,  it's  the  eleventh  hour,  but  if  you'll  get  into 
your  working  clothes  and  whirl  in,  I'll  give  you  full 
time  and  better  wages." 

Bennie  sat  upright. 

"  What?  "  he  began. 

Zephyr's  cigarette  was  smoking. 

"  There's  no  time  to  waste  drilling  ideas  through 
a  thick  head.  The  wagon  is  ready  and  so  is  the  block 
and  ropes.  Come  on,  and  while  we're  on  the  way,  I'll 
tackle  your  wits  where  the  Almighty  left  off." 

Bennie's  wits  were  not  so  muddy  as  Zephyr's  words 
indicated.  He  sprang  from  his  bed  and  into  his  shoes, 
and  before  the  stub  of  Zephyr's  cigarette  had  struck 
the  ground  outside  the  open  window  Bennie  was  push 
ing  Zephyr  through  the  door. 

"  Figures  be  hanged,  and  you,  too.  If  my  wits 
were  as  thick  as  your  tongue,  they'd  be  guessing  at 
the  clack  of  it,  instead  of  getting  a  wiggle  on  the  both 
of  us." 

The  stableman  had  the  wagon  hooked  up  and  ready. 
Zephyr  and  Bennie  clambered  in.  Bennie  caught  the 
lines  from  the  driver  and  cracking  the  whip  about  the 
ears  of  the  horses,  they  clattered  down  the  trail  to  the 
Devil's  Elbow. 

Zephyr  protested  mildly  at  Bennie's  haste. 

"  Hold  your  hush,"  growled  Bennie.  "  There's  a 
hell  of  a  fight  on  at  the  office  this  day.  If  you  w»~t 


THE   RIVER   GIVES  UP   ITS   PREY 

to  see  a  good  man  win  the  sooner  we're  back  with  the 
safe  the  better." 

There  were  no  lost  motions  on  their  arrival  at  the 
Devil's  Elbow.  The  actual  facts  that  had  hastened 
Zephyr's  location  of  the  safe  were  simple.  He  had 
studied  the  position  which  the  stage  must  have  occu 
pied  before  the  bridge  fell,  its  line  of  probable  de 
scent.  From  these  assumed  data  he  inferred  the  ap 
proximate  position  of  the  safe  in  the  river  and  began 
prodding  in  the  muddy  water.  At  last  he  was  toler 
ably  sure  that  he  had  located  it.  By  building  a  sort 
of  wing  dam  with  loose  rock,  filling  the  interstices 
with  fine  material,  the  water  of  the  pool  was  cut  off 
from  the  main  stream  and  began  to  quiet  down  and 
grow  comparatively  clear.  Then  Zephyr's  heart  al 
most  stood  still.  By  careful  looking  he  could  distin 
guish  one  corner  of  the  safe.  Without  more  ado  he 
started  for  Bennie. 

The  tackle  was  soon  rigged.  Taking  a  hook  and 
chain,  Zephyr  waded  out  into  the  icy  water,  and  after 
a  few  minutes  he  gave  the  signal  to  hoist.  It  was  the 
safe,  sure  enough.  Another  lift  with  the  tackle  in  a 
new  position  and  the  safe  was  in  the  wagon  and  headed 
for  its  starting-point. 

Bennie  was  rigid  with  important  dignity  on  the 
way  to  the  office  and  was  consequently  silent  save  as 
to  his  breath,  which  whistled  through  his  nostrils.  As 
for  Zephyr,  Bennie's  silence  only  allowed  him  to 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

whistle  or  go  through  the  noiseless  motions  as  seemed 
to  suit  his  mood.  The  driver  was  alive  with  curiosity 
and  spoiling  to  talk,  but  his  voluble  efforts  at  con 
versation  only  confirmed  his  knowledge  of  what  to 
expect.  When  later  interrogated  as  to  the  remarks 
of  Zephyr  and  Bennie  upon  this  particular  occasion 
he  cut  loose  the  pent-up  torrent  within  him. 

"  You  fellows  may  have  heard,"  he  concluded, 
"  that  clams  is  hell  on  keeping  quiet ;  but  they're  a 
flock  of  blue  jays  cussin'  fer  a  prize  compared  with 
them  two  fellers." 

As  Firmstone  turned  to  leave  the  office  the  door 
was  thrust  open  and  the  two  men  entered.  Bennie  led, 
aggressive  defiance  radiating  from  every  swing  and 
pose.  Zephyr,  calm,  imperturbable,  confident,  glanced 
at  the  red- faced  Hartwell  and  at  the  set  face  of  Firm- 
stone.  He  knew  the  game,  he  knew  his  own  hand. 
He  intended  to  play  it  for  its  full  value.  He  had  an 
interested  partner.  He  trusted  in  his  skill,  but  if 
he  made  breaks  it  was  no  concern  of  his. 

"  Assuming,"  he  began ;  "  that  there's  an  interest 
ing  discussion  going  on,  I  beg  leave  to  submit  some 
important  data  bearing  on  the  same." 

"  Trim  your  switches,"  burst  out  Bennie.  "  They'll 
sting  harder." 

The  unruffled  Zephyr  bent  a  soothing  eye  on  Bennie, 
moved  his  hat  a  little  farther  back  from  his  forehead, 
placed  his  arms  leisurely  akimbo,  and  eased  one  foot 


THE   RIVER   GIVES   UP   ITS   PREY 

by  gradually  resting  his  weight  on  the  other.  It  was 
not  affectation.  It  was  the  physical  expression  of  a 
mental  habit. 

"  Still  farther  assuming,"  here  his  eyes  slowly  re 
volved  and  rested  on  Hartwell,  "  that  truth  crushed 
to  earth  sometimes  welcomes  a  friendly  boost,  unin 
vited,  I  am  here  to  tender  the  aforesaid  assistance." 
He  turned  to  Bennie.  "  Now,  Julius,  it's  up  to  you. 
If  you'll  open  the  throttle,  you  can  close  your  blow- 
off  with  no  danger  of  bursting  your  boiler."  He 
nodded  his  head  toward  the  door. 

Hartwell's  manner  was  that  of  a  baited  bull  who, 
in  the  multiplicity  of  his  assailants,  knew  not  whom 
to  select  for  first  attack.  For  days  and  weeks  he  had 
been  marshalling  his  forces  for  an  overwhelming  as 
sault  on  Firmstone.  He  had  ignored  the  fact  that 
his  adversary  might  have  been  preparing  an  able  de 
fence  in  spite  of  secrecy  on  his  part.  It  is  a  wise  man 
who,  when  contemplating  the  spoliation  of  his  neigh 
bour,  first  takes  careful  account  of  defensive  as  well 
as  of  offensive  means.  His  personal  assault  on  Firm- 
stone  had  met  with  defeat.  In  the  mental  rout  that 
followed  he  was  casting  about  to  find  means  of  con 
cealing  from  others  that  which  he  could  not  hide  from 
himself.  The  irruption  of  Bennie  and  Zephyr  threat 
ened  disaster  even  to  this  forlorn  hope.  Firmstone 
knew  what  was  coming.  Hartwell  could  not  even 
guess.  As  he  had  seen  Firmstone  as  his  first  object, 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

so  now  he  saw  Zephyr.  Blindly  as  he  had  attacked 
Firmstone,  so  now  he  lowered  his  head  for  an  equally 
blind  charge  on  the  placid  Zephyr. 

"  Who  are  you,  anyway  ?  "  he  burst  out,  with  indig 
nant  rage. 

"  Me?  "  Zephyr  turned  to  Hartwell,  releasing  his 
lips  from  their  habitual  pucker,  his  eyes  resting  for  a 
moment  on  Hartwell.  "  Oh,  I  ain't  much.  I  ain't  a 
sack  of  fertilizer  on  a  thousand-acre  ranch."  His 
eyes  drooped  indifferently.  "  But  at  the  same  time, 
you  ain't  no  thousand-acre  ranch." 

"  That  may  be,"  retorted  Hartwell;  "  but  I'm  too 
large  to  make  it  safe  for  you  to  prance  around  on 
alone." 

Zephyr  turned  languidly  to  Hartwell. 

"  That's  so,"  he  assented.  "  I  discovered  a  similar 
truth  several  decades  ago  and  laid  it  up  for  future 
use.  Even  in  my  limited  experience  you  ain't  the  first 
thorn-apple  that  I've  seen  pears  grafted  on  to.  In 
recognition  of  your  friendly  warning,  allow  me  to  say 
that  I'm  only  one  in  a  bunch." 

A  further  exchange  of  courtesies  was  prevented  by 
the  entrance  of  four  men,  of  whom  Bennie  was  one. 
Their  entrance  was  heralded  by  a  series  of  bumps  and 
grunts.  There  was  a  final  bump,  a  final  grunt,  and 
the  four  men  straightened  simultaneously;  four 
bended  arms  swept  the  moisture  from  four  perspir 
ing  faces. 

[  230  ] 


THE   RIVER   GIVES   UP   ITS   PREY 

"  That's  all."  Bennie  dismissed  his  helpers  with  a 
wave  of  his  hand,  then  stood  grimly  repressed,  waiting 
for  the  next  move. 

The  scene  was  mildly  theatrical ;  unintentionally  so, 
so  far  as  Zephyr  was  concerned,  designedly  so  on  the 
part  of  Bennie,  who  longed  to  push  it  to  a  most  thrill 
ing  climax.  It  was  not  pleasant  to  Firmstone ;  but  the 
cause  was  none  of  his  creating,  he  was  of  no  mind  to 
interfere  with  the  event.  He  was  only  human  after 
all,  and  that  it  annoyed  and  irritated  Hartwell 
afforded  him  a  modicum  of  legitimate  solace.  Besides, 
Zephyr  and  Bennie  were  his  stanch  friends ;  the  re 
covery  of  the  safe  and  the  putting  it  in  evidence  at  the 
most  effective  moment  was  their  work.  The  manner 
of  bringing  it  into  play,  though  distasteful  to  him, 
suited  their  ideas  of  propriety,  and  Firmstone  felt  that 
they  had  earned  the  right  to  an  exhibition  of  their 
personalities  with  no  interference  on  his  part.  He  pre 
served  a  passive,  dignified  silence. 

As  for  Hartwell,  openly  attacked  from  without, 
within  a  no  less  violent  conflict  of  invisible  forces  was 
crowding  him  to  self-humiliation.  To  retreat  from 
the  scene  meant  either  an  open  confession  of  wrong 
doing,  or  a  refusal  on  his  part  to  do  justice  to  the 
man  whom  he  had  wronged.  To  remain  was  to  subject 
himself  to  the  open  triumph  of  Zephyr  and  Bennie, 
and  the  no  less  assured  though  silent  triumph  of  Firm- 
stone. 

[231] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

Hartwell's  reflections  were  interrupted  by  Zephyr's 
request  for  the  keys  to  the  safe.  There  was  a  clatter 
as  Firmstone  dropped  them  into  his  open  hand.  Hart- 
well  straightened  up  with  flushed  cheeks.  Pierre's 
words  again  came  to  him.  The  whole  thing  might  be 
a  bluff,  after  all.  The  safe  might  be  empty.  Here 
was  a  possible  avenue  of  escape.  With  the  same  blind 
energy  with  which  he  had  entered  other  paths,  he 
entered  this.  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  with  tolerant 
resignation. 

"  If  it  amuses  you  people  to  make  a  mountain  out 
of  a  molehill  I  can  afford  to  stand  it." 

Bennie  looked  pityingly  at  Hartwell.  "  God  Al 
mighty  must  have  it  in  for  you  bad,  or  he'd  let  you 
open  your  eyes  t'other  end  to,  once  in  a  while." 

As  the  safe  was  finally  opened  and  one  by  one  the 
dull  yellow  bars  were  piled  on  the  scales,  there  was 
too  much  tenseness  to  allow  of  even  a  show  of  levity. 
Zephyr  had  no  doubts.  No  one  could  have  got  at  the 
safe  while  in  the  river ;  he  could  swear  to  that.  From 
its  delivery  to  the  driver  by  Firmstone  there  had  been 
no  time  nor  opportunity  to  tamper  with  its  contents. 
As  for  Firmstone,  he  had  too  much  at  stake  to  be 
entirely  free  from  anxiety,  though  neither  voice  nor 
manner  betrayed  it.  He  had  had  experience  enough 
to  teach  him  that  it  was  not  sufficient  to  be  honest — 
one  must  at  all  times  be  prepared  to  prove  it. 

The  last  ingot  was  checked  off.    Firmstone  silently 


THE   RIVER   GIVES   UP   ITS   PREY 

handed  Hartwell  the  copy  of  his  original  letter  of 
advice  and  the  totalled  figures  of  the  recent  weighing. 
Hartwell  accepted  them  with  a  cynical  smile  and  laid 
them  indifferently  aside. 

"  Well,"  he  remarked ;  "  all  I  can  say  is,  the  com 
pany  recovered  the  safe  in  the  nick  of  time,  from 
whom  I  don't  pretend  to  say.  We've  got  it,  and  that's 
enough."  There  was  a  grin  of  cunning  defiance  on 
his  face.  He  had  entered  a  covert  where  further  pur 
suit  was  impossible. 

For  once  Bennie  felt  unequal  to  the  emergency. 
He  turned  silently,  but  appealingly,  to  Zephyr. 

It  was  a  new  experience  for  Zephyr  as  well.  For 
the  first  time  in  his  life  he  felt  himself  jarred  to  the 
point  of  quick  retort,  wholly  unconsonant  with  his 
habitual  serenity.  His  face  flushed.  His  hand  moved 
jerkily  to  the  bosom  of  his  shirt,  only  to  be  as  jerkily 
removed  empty.  The  harmonica  was  decidedly  unequal 
to  the  task.  His  lips  puckered  and  straightened.  His 
final  resort  was  more  satisfying.  He  deliberately 
seated  himself  on  the  safe  and  began  rolling  a  cigar 
ette.  Placing  it  to  his  lips,  he  drew  a  match  along 
the  leg  of  his  trousers.  The  shielded  flame  was  applied 
to  the  cigarette.  There  came  a  few  deliberate  puffs, 
the  cigarette  was  removed.  His  crossed  leg  was  thrust 
through  his  clasped  hands  at  he  leaned  backward. 
Through  a  cloud  of  soothing  smoke  his  answer  was 
meditatively  voiced. 

[233] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

"  When  the  Almighty  made  man,  he  must  have  had 
a  pot  of  sense  on  one  hand  and  foolishness  on  the 
other,  and  he  put  some  of  each  inside  every  empty 
skull.  He  got  mighty  interested  in  his  work  and  so 
absent-minded  he  used  up  the  sense  first.  Least 
ways,  some  skulls  got  an  unrighteous  dose  of  fool 
that  I  can't  explain  no  other  way.  I  ain't  blaming  the 
Almighty ;  he'd  got  the  stuff  on  his  hands  and  he'd  got 
to  get  rid  of  it  somehow.  It's  like  rat  poison — mighty 
good  in  its  place,  but  dangerous  to  have  lying  around 
loose.  He  just  forgot  to  mix  it  in,  that's  all,  and  we've 
got  to  do  it  for  him.  It's  a  heap  of  trouble  and  it's 
a  nasty  job,  and  I  ain't  blaming  him  for  jumping  it." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

The  Sword  that  Turns 

AS  Zephyr  and  Bennie  left  the  office   Hartwell 
turned  to  Firmstone.     There  was  no  outward 
yielding,  within  only  the  determination  not  to 
recognise  defeat. 

"  The  cards  are  yours ;  but  we'll  finish  the  game." 

The  words  were  not  spoken,  but  they  were  in  evi 
dence. 

Firmstone  was  silent  for  a  long  time.  He  was  think 
ing  neither  of  Hartwell  nor  of  himself. 

"Well,"  he  finally  asked;  "this  little  incident  is 
happily  closed.  What  next  ?  " 

HartwelPs  manner  had  not  changed.  "  You  are 
superintendent  here.  Don't  ask  me.  It's  up  to  you." 

Firmstone  restrained  himself  with  an  effort.  "  Is 
it?  " 

The  question  carried  its  own  answer  with  it.  It 
was  plainly  negative,  only  Hartwell  refused  to  accept 
it. 

"  What  else  are  you  out  here  for?  " 

Firmstone's  face  flushed  hotly.  "  Why  can't  you 
talk  sense?  "  he  burst  out. 

[235] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

"  I  am  not  aware  that  I  have  talked  anything  else." 
Hartwell  only  grew  more  rigid  with  Firmstone's  vis 
ible  anger. 

"  If  that's  your  opinion  the  sooner  I  get  out  the 
better."  Firmstone  rose  and  started  to  the  door. 

"  Wait  a  moment."  Firmstone's  decision  was,  by 
Hartwell,  twisted  into  weakening.  On  this  narrow 
pivot  he  turned  his  preparation  for  retreat.  "  The 
loss  of  the  gold  brought  me  out  here.  It  has  been 
recovered  and  no  questions  asked.  That  ends  my 
work.  Now  yours  begins.  When  I  have  your  assur 
ance  that  you  will  remain  with  the  company  in  accord 
ance  with  your  contract,  I  am  ready  to  go.  What  do 
you  say  ?  " 

Firmstone  thought  rapidly  and  to  the  point.  His 
mind  was  soon  made  up.  "  I  decline  to  commit  my 
self."  The  door  closed  behind  him,  shutting  off  fur 
ther  discussion. 

The  abrupt  termination  of  the  interview  was  more 
than  disappointing  to  Hartwell.  It  carried  with  it  an 
element  of  fear.  He  had  played  his  game  obstinately, 
with  obvious  defiance  in  the  presence  of  Zephyr  and 
Bennie;  with  their  departure  he  had  counted  on  a 
quiet  discussion  with  Firmstone.  He  had  no  settled 
policy  further  than  to  draw  Firmstone  out,  get  him  to 
commit  himself  definitely  while  he,  with  no  outward 
sign  of  yielding,  could  retreat  with  flying  colours.  He 
now  recognised  the  fact  that  the  knives  with  which  he 


THE     SWORD     THAT     TURNS 

had  been  juggling  were  sharper  and  more  dangerous 
than  he  had  thought,  but  he  also  felt  that,  by  keeping 
them  in  the  air  as  long  as  possible,  when  they  fell  he 
could  at  least  turn  their  points  from  himself.  Firm- 
stone's  departure  brought  them  tumbling  about  his 
ears  in  a  very  inconsiderate  manner.  He  must  make 
another  move,  and  in  a  hurry.  Events  were  no  longer 
even  apparently  under  his  control ;  they  were  control 
ling  him  and  pushing  him  into  a  course  of  action  not 
at  all  to  his  liking. 

The  element  of  fear,  before  passive,  was  now  quiv 
ering  with  intense  activity.  He  closed  his  mind  to  all 
else  and  bent  it  toward  the  forestalling  of  an  action 
that  he  could  not  but  feel  was  immediate  and  press 
ing. 

Partly  from  Firmstone,  partly  from  Pierre,  he  had 
gathered  a  clear  idea  that  a  union  was  being  organ 
ised,  and  this  knowledge  had  impelled  him  to  a  course 
that  he  would  now  have  given  worlds  to  recall. 

This  act  was  none  else  than  the  engaging  of  a  hun 
dred  or  more  non-union  men.  On  their  arrival,  he 
had  intended  the  immediate  discharge  of  the  disaf 
fected  and  the  installing  of  the  new  men  in  their 
places.  He  had  chuckled  to  himself  over  the  dismay 
which  the  arrival  of  the  men  would  create,  but  even 
more  over  the  thought  of  the  bitter  rage  of  Morrison 
and  Pierre  when  they  realised  the  fact  that  they  had 
been  outwitted  and  forestalled.  The  idea  that  he  was 
[237] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

forcing  upon  Firmstone  a  set  of  conditions  for  which 
he  would  refuse  to  stand  sponsor  had  occurred  to  him 
only  as  a  possibility  so  remote  that  it  was  not  even 
considered.  He  was  now  taking  earnest  counsel  with 
himself.  If  Firmstone  had  contemplated  resignation 
under  circumstances  of  far  less  moment  than  the  vital 
one  of  which  he  was  still  ignorant — Hartwell  drew  his 
hand  slowly  across  his  moistening  forehead,  then 
sprang  to  his  feet.  Why  had  he  not  thought  of  it 
before?  He  caught  up  his  hat  and  hurried  to  the 
door  of  the  outer  office.  There  was  not  a  moment  to 
lose.  Before  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  door  he  forced 
himself  to  deliberate  movement. 

"  Tell  the  stable  boss  to  hitch  up  the  light  rig  and 
bring  it  to  the  office." 

As  the  man  left  the  room,  Hartwell  seated  himself 
and  lighted  a  cigar.  In  a  few  moments  the  rig  was  at 
the  door  and  Hartwell  appeared,  leisurely  drawing  on 
a  pair  of  driving-gloves.  Adjusting  the  dust-robe 
over  his  knees,  as  he  took  the  lines  from  the  man,  he 
said: 

"  If  Mr.  Firmstone  inquires  for  me  tell  him  I  have 
gone  for  a  drive." 

Down  past  the  mill,  along  the  trail  by  the  slide,  he 
drove  with  no  appearance  of  haste.  Around  a  bend 
which  hid  the  mill  from  sight,  the  horses  had  a  rude 
awakening.  The  cigar  was  thrown  aside,  the  reins 
tightened,  and  the  whip  was  cracked  in  a  manner  that 
[238] 


THE     SWORD     THAT     TURNS 

left  no  doubt  in  the  horses'  minds  as  to  the  desires  of 
their  driver. 

In  an  hour,  foaming  and  panting,  they  were  pulled 
up  at  the  station.  Hitching  was  really  an  unnecessary 
precaution,  for  a  rest  was  a  thing  to  be  desired ;  but 
hitched  they  were,  and  Hartwell  hurried  into  the 
dingy  office. 

The  operator  was  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  his 
feet  beside  his  clicking  instrument,  a  soothing  pipe 
perfuming  the  atmosphere  of  placid  dreams. 

"  I  want  to  get  off  a  message  at  once."  Hartwell 
was  standing  before  the  window. 

The  operator's  placid  dreams  assumed  an  added 
charm  by  comparison  with  the  perturbed  Hartwell. 

"  You're  too  late,  governor."  He  slowly  raised  his 
eyes,  letting  them  rest  on  Hartwell. 

"  Too  late !  "     Hartwell  repeated,  dazedly. 

"  Yep.  At  once  ain't  scheduled  to  make  no  stops." 
The  operator  resumed  his  pipe  and  his  dreams. 

"  I've  no  time  to  waste,"  Hartwell  snapped,  impa 
tiently. 

"  Even  so,"  drawled  the  man ;  "  but  you  didn't  give 
me  no  time  at  all.  I  don't  mind  a  fair  handicap ;  but 
I  ain't  no  jay." 

"  Will  you  give  me  a  blank  ?  " 

"  Oh,  now  you're  talking  U.  S.  all  right.     I  savvy 
that."    Without  rising,  he  pushed  a  packet  of  blanks 
toward  the  window  with  his  foot. 
[239] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

Hartwell  wrote  hurriedly  for  a  moment,  and  shoved 
the  message  toward  the  operator.  Taking  his  feet 
from  the  desk,  he  leaned  slowly  forward,  picked  up  a 
pencil  and  began  checking  off  the  words. 

John  Haskins,  Leadville,  Colorado. 

Do  not  send  the  men  I  asked  for.     Will  explain  by  letter. 

Arthur  Hartwell. 

"  Things  quieting  down  at  the  mine?  "  The  opera 
tor  paused,  looking  up  at  Hartwell. 

Hartwell  could  not  restrain  his  impatience. 

"  I'm  Mr.  Hartwell,  general  manager  of  the  Rain 
bow  Company.  Will  you  attend  to  your  business  and 
leave  my  affairs  alone?  " 

"  Pleased  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Hartwell.  My  name  is 
Jake  Studley,  agent  for  R.  G.  S.  I  get  fifty  dollars  a 
month,  and  don't  give  a  damn  for  no  one."  He  began 
clearing  the  papers  from  before  his  instrument  and 
drumming  out  his  call. 

The  call  was  answered  and  the  message  sent.  The 
operator  picked  up  the  paper  and  thrust  it  on  a  file. 

Hartwell's  face  showed  conflicting  emotions.  He 
wanted  to  force  the  exasperating  man  to  action ;  but 
his  own  case  was  urgent.  He  drew  from  his  pocket 
a  roll  of  bills.  Selecting  a  ten-dollar  note,  he  pushed 
it  toward  the  operator,  who  was  refilling  his  pipe. 

"  I  want  that  message  to  get  to  Haskins  immedi 
ately,  and  I  want  an  answer." 

The  operator  shoved  the  bill  into  his  pocket  with 
[240] 


THE     SWORD     THAT     TURNS 

one  hand,  with  the  other  he  began  another  call.  There 
was  a  pause,  then  a  series  of  clicks  which  were  cut  off 
and  another  message  sent.  The  man  closed  his  instru 
ment  and  winked  knowingly  at  Hartwell. 

"  I  squirted  a  little  electricity  down  the  line  on  my 
own  account.  Told  them  the  G.  M.  was  in  and  or 
dered  that  message  humped.  'Tain't  up  to  me  to 
explain  what  G.  M.  is  here." 

Hartwell  went  out  on  the  platform  and  paced  rest 
lessly  up  and  down.  In  about  an  hour  he  again  ap 
proached  the  window. 

"  How  long  before  I  can  expect  an  answer?  " 

"  I  can't  tell.  It  depends  on  their  finding  your 
man.  They'll  get  a  wiggle  on  'em,  all  right.  I'll 
stir  them  up  again  before  long.  Jehosaphat !  There's 
my  call  now ! "  He  hurriedly  answered,  then  read, 
word  by  word,  the  message  as  it  was  clicked  off. 

Arthur  Hartwell,  Rainbow,  Colorado. 

Message  received.    Too  late.     Men  left  on  special  last  night. 

John  Raskins. 

Hartwell  caught  up  another  blank. 

John  Haskins,  Leadville,  Colorado. 

Recall  the  men  without  fail.     I'll  make  it  worth  your  while. 

Arthur  Hartwell. 

There  was  another  weary  wait.  Finally  the  oper 
ator  came  from  his  office. 

"  Sorry,  Mr.  Hartwell,  but  Leadville  says  Haskins 
[241] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

left  on  train  after  sending  first  despatch.  Says  he 
had  a  ticket  for  Salt  Lake." 

"  When  will  that  special  be  here?  "  Hartwell's 
voice  was  husky  in  spite  of  himself. 

"  Ought  to  be  here  about  six.     It's  three  now." 

"  Is  there  no  way  to  stop  it  ?  " 

"  Not  now.  Haskins  chartered  it.  He's  the  only 
one  that  can  call  it  off,  and  he's  gone." 

Hartwell's  face  was  pale  and  haggard.  He  again 
began  pacing  up  and  down,  trying  in  vain  to  find  a 
way  of  doing  the  impossible.  The  fact  that  he  had 
temporised,  resolutely  set  his  face  against  the  manly 
thing  to  do,  only  to  find  the  same  alternative  facing 
him  at  every  turn,  more  ominous  and  harder  than  ever, 
taught  him  nothing.  The  operator  watched  him  as 
he  repeatedly  passed.  His  self-asserting  independ 
ence  had  gone,  in  its  place  was  growing  a  homely  sym 
pathy  for  the  troubled  man.  As  Hartwell  passed  him 
again  he  called  out : 

"  Say,  governor,  I  know  something  about  that  busi 
ness  at  the  mine,  and  'tain't  up  to  you  to  worry.  Your 
old  man  up  there  is  a  corker.  They're  on  to  him  all 
right.  He'll  just  take  one  fall  out  of  that  crowd 
that'll  do  them  for  keeps." 

Hartwell  paused,  looking  distantly  at  the  speaker. 
He  was  not  actively  conscious  of  him,  hardly  of  his 
words.  The  operator,  not  understanding,  went  on 
with  more  assurance. 


THE  SWORD  THAT  TURNS 
"  I  know  Jack  Haskins.  This  ain't  the  first  time 
he's  been  called  on  to  help  out  in  this  kind  of  a  racket, 
you  bet!  He's  shipped  you  a  gang  that  'ud  rather 
fight  than  eat.  All  you've  got  to  do  is  to  say  '  sick 
'em  '  and  then  lay  back  and  see  the  fur  fly." 

Hartwell  turned  away  without  a  word  and  went  to 
his  rig.  He  got  in  and  drove  straight  for  the  mill. 
His  mind  was  again  made  up.  This  time  it  was  made 
up  aright.  Only — circumstances  did  not  allow  it  to 
avail. 

As  he  drove  away  he  did  not  notice  a  man  in 
miner's  garb  who  looked  at  him  sharply  and  resumed 
his  way.  The  operator  was  still  on  the  platform  as 
the  man  came  to  a  halt.  He  was  deriving  great  satis 
faction  from  the  crackling  new  bill  which  he  was 
caressing  in  his  pocket.  The  new  bill  would  soon  have 
had  a  companion,  had  he  kept  quiet,  but  this  he  could 
not  know. 

Glancing  at  the  miner,  he  remarked,  benevolently: 
"  Smelling  trouble,  and  pulling  out,  eh  ?  " 
"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "    The  new-comer  looked  up 
stupidly. 

"  Just  this.  I  reckon  you've  run  up  against  Jack 
Haskins's  gang  before,  and  ain't  hankering  for  a 
second  round." 

"  Jack  Haskins's  gang  comin'  ?  "  There  was  an 
eagerness  in  the  man's  manner  which  the  operator  mis 
understood. 

[243] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

"  That's  what,  and  a  hundred  strong." 

The  man  turned. 

"  Thanks,  pard.  Guess  I'll  go  back  and  tell  the 
boys.  Perhaps  they'd  like  a  chance  to  git,  too ;  then 
again  they  mightn't."  Tipping  a  knowing  wink  at 
the  open-mouthed  operator,  he  turned  on  his  heel  and 
walked  briskly  away.  He  too  was  headed  for  the  mill. 

The  operator's  jaw  worked  spasmodically  for  a 
moment. 

"  Hen's  feathers  and  skunk  oil !  If  he  ain't  a  spy, 
I'll  eat  him.  Oh,  Lord!  Old  Firmstone  and  Jack 
Haskins's  gang  lined  up  against  the  Blue  Goose 
crowd!  Jake,  my  boy,  listen  to  me.  You  can  get 
another  job  if  you  lose  this;  but  to-morrow  you  are 
going  to  see  the  sight  of  your  life." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

Good  Intentions 

RETURNING  from  the  station,  Hartwell 
drove  rapidly  until  he  came  to  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  that  rose  above  the  nearly  level  mesa. 
Even  then  he  tried  to  urge  his  j  aded  team  into  a  pace 
in  some  consonance  with  his  anxiety;  but  the  steep 
grades  and  the  rarefied  air  appealed  more  strongly  to 
the  exhausted  animals  than  did  the  stinging  lash  he 
wielded.  As,  utterly  blown,  they  came  to  a  rest  at 
the  top  of  a  steep  grade,  Hartwell  became  aware  of 
the  presence  of  three  men  who  rose  leisurely  as  the 
team  halted.  Two  of  them  stood  close  by  the  horses' 
heads,  the  third  paused  beside  the  wagon. 

"  Howdy !  "  he  saluted,  with  a  grin. 

"  What  do  you  want?  "  A  hold-up  was  the  only 
thing  that  occurred  to  Hartwell. 

"  Just  a  little  sociable  talk.  You  ain't  in  no  hur 
ry  ?  "  The  grin  broadened. 

"  I  am."    Hartwell  reached  for  his  whip. 

"  None  of  that !  "  The  grin  died  away.  The  two 
men  each  laid  a  firm  hand  on  the  bridles. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  what  this  means  ?  "  There  was 
[245] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

not  a  quaver  in  Hartwell's  voice,  no  trace  of  fear  in  his 
eyes. 

"  By-and-by.    You  just  wait.    You  got  a  gun?  " 

"No;  I  haven't." 

"  I  don't  like  to  dispute  a  gentleman ;  but  it's  better 
to  be  safe.  Just  put  up  your  hands." 

Hartwell  complied  with  the  request.  The  man 
passed  his  hands  rapidly  over  Hartwell's  body,  then 
turned  away. 

"  All  right,"  he  said,  then  seated  himself  and  began 
filling  his  pipe. 

"  How  long  am  I  expected  to  wait?  "  Hartwell's 
tone  was  sarcastic. 

"  Sorry  I  can't  tell  you.  It  just  depends.  I'll  let 
you  know  when." 

He  relapsed  into  silence  that  Hartwell  could  not 
break  with  all  his  impatient  questions  or  his  open 
threats.  The  men  left  the  horses'  heads  and  seated 
themselves  in  the  road.  It  occurred  to  Hartwell  to 
make  a  dash  for  liberty,  but  there  was  a  cartridge-belt 
on  each  man  and  holsters  with  ready  guns. 

In  the  deep  canon  the  twilight  was  giving  way  to 
darkness  that  was  only  held  in  check  by  the  strip  of 
open  sky  above  and  by  a  band  of  yellow  light  that 
burned  with  lambent  tongues  on  the  waving  foliage 
which  overhung  the  eastern  cliff.  Chattering  squirrels 
and  scolding  magpies  had  long  since  ceased  their  bick 
erings  ;  if  there  were  other  sounds  that  came  with  the 
[246] 


GOOD     INTENTIONS 

night,  they  were  overcome  by  the  complaining  river 
which  ceased  not  day  nor  night  to  fret  among  the 
boulders  that  strewed  its  bed.  Like  a  shaft  of  light 
piercing  the  darkness  a  whistle  sounded,  mellowed  by 
distance.  The  man  near  the  wagon  spoke. 

"  That's  a  special.    Where  in  hell's  Jack?  " 

"  On  deck."  A  fourth  man  came  to  a  halt.  He 
paused,  wiping  the  perspiration  from  his  face. 
"  They're  coming,  a  hundred  strong.  Jakey  coughed 
it  up,  and  it  didn't  cost  a  cent."  He  laughed.  "  It's 
Jack  Haskins's  crowd,  too." 

The  man  by  the  wagon  addressed  Hartwell. 

"  I  can  tell  you  now.  It's  an  all-night  wait.  Tumble 
out  lively.  Better  take  your  blankets,  if  you've  got 
any.  It's  liable  to  be  cool  before  morning  right  here. 
It'll  be  hotter  on  the  mountain,  but  you'd  better  stay 
here." 

Hartwell  did  not  stir. 

"  Out  with  you  now,  lively.  We  ain't  got  no  time 
to  waste." 

Hartwell  obeyed.  The  man  sprang  into  the  wagon 
and,  pitching  out  the  blankets,  gathered  up  the 
lines. 

"  Come  on,  boys."  Turning  to  his  companion,  he 
said,  "  You  stay  with  him,  Jack.  He  ain't  heeled ; 
but  don't  let  him  off."  To  Hartwell  direct,  "  Don't 
try  to  get  away.  We'll  deliver  your  message  about 
the  special." 

[247] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 
His  companions  were  already  in  the  wagon  and  they 

started  up  the  trail. 

Jack  turned  to  his  charge. 

"  Now,  if  you'll  just  be  a  good  boy  and  mind  me, 

to-morrow  I'll  take  you  to  the  circus." 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

An  Unexpected  Recruit 

LIKE  the  majority  of  men  in  the  West,  Jake 
Studley  took  the  view  that  all  men  are  equal, 
and  that  the  interests  of  one  are  the  concerns 
of  all.  A  civil  answer  to  what  in  other  climes  would 
be  considered  impertinent  curiosity  was  the  unmistak 
able  shibboleth  of  the  coequal  fraternity.  Hartwell's 
manner  had  been  interpreted  by  Jakey  as  a  declara 
tion  of  heresy  to  his  orthodox  code  and  the  invitation 
to  mind  his  own  business  as  a  breach  of  etiquette 
which  the  code  entailed.  Jakey  thereupon  assumed 
the  duties  of  a  defender  of  the  faith,  and,  being  pre 
pared  for  action,  moved  immediately  upon  the  enemy. 
The  attack  developed  the  unexpected.  Hartwell's 
bill,  tendered  in  desperation,  was  accepted  in  error, 
not  as  a  bribe,  but  as  an  apology.  Jakey  sounded 
"  cease  firing  "  to  his  embattled  lines,  and  called  in 
his  attacking  forces.  He  had  taken  salt,  henceforth 
he  was  Hartwell's  friend  and  the  friend  of  his  friends. 
Jakey  took  neither  himself  nor  his  life  seriously. 
He  was  station  agent,  freight  agent,  express  agent, 
[249] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

and  telegraph  operator  at  Rainbow  Station,  R.  G.  S., 
and  he  performed  his  various  duties  with  laudable 
promptness,  when  nothing  more  promising  attracted 
his  attention.  Just  now  the  "  more  promising  "  was 
in  sight.  The  company  had  no  scruples  in  dismissing 
employees  without  warning,  and  Jakey  had  no  quix 
otic  principles  which  restrained  him  for  a  moment  from 
doing  to  others  what  they  would  do  to  him  if  occasion 
arose. 

Jakey  did  not  hold  that  the  world  owed  him  a  living, 
but  he  considered  that  it  possessed  a  goodly  store  of 
desirable  things  and  that  these  were  held  in  trust  for 
those  who  chose  to  take  them.  Being  "  broke  "  did 
not  appal  him,  nor  the  loss  of  a  job  fill  him  with 
quaking.  The  railroad  was  not  the  whole  push,  and 
if  he  could  not  pump  electric  juice  he  could  wield  a 
pick  or  rope  a  steer  with  equal  zeal.  Just  now  the 
most  desirable  thing  that  the  world  held  in  trust  was 
the  coming  fight  at  the  Rainbow.  Accordingly  he 
wired  the  R.  G.  S.  officials  that  there  was  a  vacancy 
at  Rainbow  Station.  The  said  officials,  being  long 
accustomed  to  men  of  Jakey 's  stamp,  merely  re 
marked,  "  Damn ! "  and  immediately  wired  to  the 
nearest  junction  point  to  send  another  man  to  take 
the  vacant  position. 

Jakey  admired  Firmstone,  and  this  admiration  pre 
possessed  him  in  Firmstone's  favour.  The  prepos 
session  was  by  no  means  fixed  and  invulnerable,  and 
[250] 


AN    UNEXPECTED    RECRUIT 
had  not  Hartwell  cleared  himself  of  suspected  heresy, 
he  would  have  lent  the  same  zeal,  now  kindling  within 
him,  to  the  Blue  Goose  rather  than  the  Rainbow. 

In  what  he  recognised  as  the  first  round  of  the 
opening  fight  Jakey  realised  that  the  Blue  Goose  had 
scored.  But,  before  the  special  pulled  in,  he  was 
ready,  and  this  time  he  was  sure  of  his  move. 

"By  the  Great  Spirit  of  the  noble  Red  Man," 
Jakey  was  apostrophising  the  distant  mountains  in 
ornate  language ;  "  what  kind  of  a  low-down  bird  are 
you,  to  be  gathered  in  by  a  goose,  and  a  blue  one  at 
that?  "  Jakey  paused,  gazing  earnestly  at  the  re 
treating  figure  of  the  miner.  Then,  shaking  his  fist 
at  the  man's  back,  "  Look  here,  you  down-trodden 
serf  of  capitalistic  oppression,  I'll  show  you!  Don't 
you  fool  yourself !  Tipped  me  the  grand  ha-ha ;  did 
you?  Well,  you  just  listen  to  me !  'Stead  of  milking 
the  old  cow,  you've  just  rubbed  off  a  few  drops  from 
her  calf's  nose.  That's  what,  as  I'll  proceed  to  demon 
strate." 

Jakey's  loyalty  had  been  wavering,  passive,  and  im 
personal.  Now  his  personal  sympathies  were  enlisted, 
for  the  path  of  self-vindication  lay  through  the  tri 
umph  of  the  Rainbow. 

Before  the  special  had  come  to  a  standstill  its  ani 
mated  cargo  began  to  disembark.     Coatless  men  with 
woollen  shirts  belted  to  trousers,  the  belts  sagging  with 
their  heavy  loads  of  guns  and  cartridges,  every  man 
[251] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

with  a  roll  of  blankets  and  many  with  carbines  as 
well,  testified  to  the  recognition  of  the  fact  that  the 
path  of  the  miner's  pick  must  be  cleared  by  burning 
powder. 

Jakey,  thrusting  his  way  through  the  boisterous 
crowd,  forced  upon  the  resentful  conductor  his  sur 
rendered  insignia  of  office,  then  mingled  with  his 
future  associates.  He  met  a  hilarious  welcome,  as  the 
knowledge  spread  from  man  to  man  that  he  was  with 
them.  Its  practical  expression  was  accompanied  by 
the  thrusting  of  uncorked  bottles  at  his  face  and  de 
mands  that  he  should  "  drink  hearty  "  as  a  pledge  of 
fellowship.  Jakey  waved  them  aside. 

"  Put  them  up,  boys,  put  them  up.  Them  weapons 
ain't  no  use,  not  here.  They're  too  short  range,  and 
they  shoot  the  wrong  way." 

The  leader  pushed  his  way  through  the  crowd 
around  Jakey. 

"  That's  right,  boys.  It's  close  to  tally  now. 
Where's  the  Rainbow  trail?  " 

With  elaborate  figures,  punctuated  by  irreverent 
adjectives,  Jakey  pointed  out  the  trail  and  his  reasons 
against  taking  it. 

"  It's  good  medicine  to  fight  a  skunk  head  on,"  he 
concluded ;  "  but  when  you  go  up  against  a  skunk,  a 
coyote,  and  a  grizzly  wrapped  up  in  one  skin,  you 
want  to  be  circumspect.  Morrison's  a  skunk,  Pierre's 
a  coyote,  and  the  rest  are  grizzlies,  and  you  don't  want 


AN    UNEXPECTED    RECRUIT 
to  fool  yourselves  just  because  the  skin  of  the  beast 
grows  feathers  instead  of  fur." 

The  leader  listened  attentively  and,  from  the  thick 
husk  of  Jakey's  figures,  he  stripped  the  hard  grains 
of  well-ripened  truth.  Jakey  laid  small  emphasis  on 
the  manner  in  which  the  envoy  of  the  Blue  Goose  had 
gained  his  information.  He  had  personal  reasons  for 
that,  but  the  fact  that  the  information  was  gained 
sufficed. 

The  men  grew  silent  as  they  realised  that  the  battle 
was  on  and  that  they  were  in  the  enemy's  country. 
Under  the  guidance  of  Jakey  they  tramped  up  the 
track,  turned  toward  what  appeared  as  a  vertical 
cliff,  and  clambered  slowly  and  painfully  over  loose 
rocks,  through  stunted  evergreens,  and  at  last  stood 
upon  the  rolling  surface  of  the  mesa  above.  From 
here  on,  the  path  was  less  obstructed.  It  was  near 
midnight  when  the  dull  roar  of  the  mill  announced 
the  proximity  of  their  goal.  As  silently  as  they  had 
followed  the  tortuous  trail,  so  silently  each  wrapped 
himself  in  his  blankets  and  lay  down  to  sleep. 


[253] 


CHAPTER   XXIV 
The  Gathering  to  its  Own 

HAD  Firmstone  known  of  Hartwell's  move, 
which  was  to  bring  affairs  to  an  immediate 
and  definite  crisis,  his  actions  would  have 
been  shaped  along  different  lines. 

But  the  only  one  who  could  have  given  this  knowl 
edge  blindly  withheld  it  until  it  was  beyond  his  power 
to  give.  At  the  mill  Firmstone  noticed  a  decided 
change  in  Luna.  The  foreman  was  sullen  in  look  and 
act.  He  answered  Firmstone's  questions  almost  inso 
lently,  but  not  with  open  defiance.  His  courage  was 
not  equal  to  giving  full  voice  to  his  sullen  hatred. 
Firmstone  paid  little  heed  to  the  man's  behaviour, 
thinking  it  only  a  passing  mood.  After  a  thorough 
inspection  of  the  mill,  he  returned  to  the  office. 

"  Mr.  Hartwell  said,  if  you  inquired  for  him,  that 
I  was  to  tell  you  he  had  gone  for  a  drive."  The  man 
anticipated  his  duty  before  Firmstone  inquired. 

"  Very  well,"  Firmstone  replied,  as  he  entered  the 
office. 

He  busied  himself  at  his  desk  for  a  long  time. 
Toward  night  he  ordered  his  horse  to  be  saddled. 
[  254  ] 


THE     GATHERING     TO     ITS     OWN 

He  had  determined  to  go  to  the  mine.  He  had  decided 
to  move  with  a  strong  hand,  to  force  his  authority  on 
the  rebellious,  as  if  it  had  not  been  questioned,  as  if 
he  himself  had  no  question  as  to  whether  it  would  be 
sustained.  Hartwell  had  refused  to  indicate  his  posi 
tion  ;  he  would  force  him  to  act,  if  not  to  speak.  His 
after  course  events  would  decide ;  but  half-way  meas 
ures  were  no  longer  to  be  tolerated. 

As  he  rode  by  the  Falls,  he  met  Zephyr  on  his  way 
down.  Zephyr  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  A  weather-cock,"  he  remarked,  "  has  a  reputation 
for  instability  of  character  which  it  does  not  deserve. 
It  simply  pays  impartial  attention  to  a  breeze  or  a 
hurricane.  In  fact,  it's  alive  to  anything  that's  going 
in  the  wind  line.  We  call  a  weather-cock  fickle  and  a 
man  wide-awake  for  doing  the  same  thing."  He 
paused,  looking  inquiringly  at  Firmstone. 

Firmstone  was  in  anything  but  an  allegorical  mood, 
yet  he  knew  that  Zephyr  had  something  of  interest  to 
communicate,  and  so  restrained  any  manifestation  of 
impatience  which  he  might  have  felt. 

"Well?"  he  answered. 

"Say,  Goggles" — Zephyr  continued  his  allegory — 
"  I've  studied  weather-cocks.  I  take  note  that  when 
one  of  them  so-called  fickle-minded  inanimates  goes 
jerking  around  the  four  cardinal  points  and  feeling 
of  what's  between,  it's  just  responding  to  the  fore 
running  snorts  of  a  pull-up  and  come-along  cyclone. 
[255  ] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

That's  why  I'm  bobbing  up  and  down  like  an  ant 
looking  for  its  long-lost  brother.  There's  a  cyclone  on 
its  way,  Goggles,  and  it's  going  to  light  hereabouts 
right  soon." 

"  I  guess  you're  right,  Zephyr."  Firmstone  gath 
ered  his  reins,  preparatory  to  resuming  his  way,  but 
Zephyr  laid  a  detaining  hand  on  the  horse's  neck. 

It  was  not  in  Zephyr  to  make  haste  easily.  His 
undulating  shoulders  indicated  a  necessity  for  imme 
diate  speech.  The  words,  sizzling  from  between 
closed  lips,  were  a  compromise. 

"  You  have  more  sense  than  many  weather-cocks, 
and  more  sand  than  a  gravel  train."  Zephyr's  face 
began  to  twitch.  "  Wait !  "  The  word  came  forth 
explosively;  the  detaining  hand  grasped  the  bridle 
firmly.  "  Say,  Goggles,  I  was  dead  wrong.  Do  you 
hear?  About  Elise.  You  remember?  At  the  Devil's 
Elbow.  She  ain't  Pierre's  girl.  She's  as  much  of  a 
lady  as  you  are.  Keep  still!  Listen!  A  hurricane 
ain't  got  sense.  It'll  pull  up  a  weed  as  quick  as  an 
oak.  It's  coming.  For  the  love  of  God  and  me  espe 
cially,  if  I  get  pulled,  look  out  for  her !  Say  yes,  and 
go  along.  Don't  fool  with  me!  You'll  swallow  a 
barrel  of  water  to  get  a  drink  of  whisky." 

Firmstone  only  stretched  out  his  hand.     Zephyr 

took  it  for  an  instant,  then  flung  it  aside.     The  next 

moment  he  was  striding  down  the  trail.     Firmstone 

heard  the  strain  of  the  jarring  reeds  of  the  harmonica 

[256] 


THE     GATHERING     TO     ITS     OWN 

shrill  triumphantly,  penetrated  now  and  then  by 
louder  notes  as  a  plunging  step  jarred  a  stronger 
breath  through  his  lips. 

At  the  mine,  Firmstone  found  his  work  cut  out  for 
him.  On  the  narrow  platform  of  the  mine  boarding- 
house,  the  foreman  was  standing  with  his  cap  shoved 
far  back  on  his  head,  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  There 
was  an  insolent  poise  to  the  head  that  only  intensified 
the  sneering  smile  on  the  lips.  He  was  surrounded 
by  a  dozen  or  more  of  the  men  whom  Firmstone  had 
marked  as  makers  of  trouble. 

"  Well,  what  in  hell  you  up  here  for  ?  Think  I 
can't  run  a  mine  ?  "  The  foreman  called  into  play 
every  expression  of  coarse  contempt  at  his  command. 

"  Not  this  one  for  me.  Go  into  the  office,  and  I'll 
make  out  your  time." 

The  foreman  did  not  move. 

Firmstone  made  no  threatening  gesture  as  he  ad 
vanced.  The  foreman's  eyes  wavered,  cast  behind  him 
at  the  gaping  men,  then  he  turned  as  Firmstone  or 
dered. 

In  the  office  Firmstone  wrote  out  a  time  check  and 
tendered  it  to  the  man. 

"  Now  pack  up  and  get  down  the  hill." 

There    were    discordant    cries    outside    that    grew 

nearer  and  more  distinct.    As  the  foreman  opened  the 

door  to  pass  out  he  flung  back  a  defiant  grin,  but  his 

words  were  drowned  by  a  babel  of  voices  that  were 

[257] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

surging  into  the  ante-room  from  the  platform  and 
dining-room.  Firmstone  closed  and  locked  the  office 
door  behind  him.  In  an  instant  he  was  surrounded 
by  a  crowd  of  gesticulating,  shouting  men.  There 
was  a  spreading  pressure  on  all  sides,  as  men  were 
pushed  back  from  an  opening  ring  in  the  centre  of 
the  room.  A  man  with  blood-stained  face  rose,  only 
to  be  again  hurled  to  the  floor  by  a  stunning  blow. 
Firmstone  crushed  his  way  into  the  ring. 

"  No  fighting  here." 

The  man  dropped  his  eyes. 

"  I  ain't  going  to  be  called  down  by  no  scab." 

"  If  you  want  to  fight,  get  off  the  company's 
grounds !  "  Firmstone  moved  between  them. 

"  I  want  my  time."  The  man's  eyes  were  still 
downcast. 

"  You'll  get  it." 

The  ring  closed  up  again. 

"Are  we  let  out?" 

"  The  whole  push  fired?" 

A  burly,  red-faced  man  pushed  his  way  to  the  front. 

"  Say,  Mr.  Firmstone !  Don't  make  no  mistake. 
This  ain't  you.  You're  the  whitest  boss  that  ever 
looked  down  my  shirt  collar.  That's  so.  That's  what 
the  boys  all  say.  Just  you  pull  out  from  the  company 
and  go  with  us.  We'll  carry  you  right  up  to  glory 
on  the  back  of  a  fire-snorting  alligator." 

Firmstone  paid  no  attention  to  the  man.  He  went 
[258] 


THE     GATHERING     TO     ITS     OWN 

from  end  to  end  of  the  room.  The  men  gave  way  in 
front,  only  closing  in  behind.  There  was  a  hushed 
silence. 

"  There's  no  shut-down.  Any  man  who  wants  work 
can  have  it  and  be  taken  care  of.  Any  one  who  wants 
to  quit,  come  for  your  time  right  now !  " 

As  Firmstone  again  turned  toward  the  office  he 
was  conscious  for  the  first  time  of  a  thick-set  man  with 
kindly  eyes,  now  steely-hard,  who  followed  his  every 
motion.  It  was  the  night-shift  boss. 

"You're  with  me?" 

"  You  bet,  and  plenty  more." 

"  Hold  them  down.  Send  the  men  in,  one  by  one, 
who  want  to  quit.  How  about  the  magazine?  " 

"  All  right.  Two  men  and  four  guns.  They're 
with  you  till  hell  freezes,  and  then  they'll  skate." 

It  was  midnight  before  the  last  man  called  for  his 
time.  Firmstone  laid  down  his  pen. 

"  I'm  shy  a  foreman.  Will  you  take  the  job?  " 
Firmstone  addressed  the  shift  boss. 

"  Yes,  till  you  can  do  better." 

"  All  right.  You  better  move  around  pretty  lively 
for  to-night.  I'll  stay  in  the  office  till  morning." 

The  man  left  the  office.  He  had  not  been  gone  long 
before  there  was  a  timid  knock  at  the  office  door. 

"  Come  in,"  Firmstone  called. 

The  door  was  opened  hesitatingly  and  two  men  en 
tered.  They  stood  with  lowered  eyes,  shifting  their 
[  259  ] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

caps  from  hand  to  hand,  and  awkwardly  balancing 
from  foot  to  foot. 

"Well?"     Firmstone  spoke  sharply. 

"  Me  and  my  partner  want  our  j  obs  back." 

"  You'll  have  to  see  Roner.    He's  foreman  now." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"  In  the  mine." 

"  Can  we  take  our  bunks  till  morning,  sir?  " 

"  Yes." 

The  men  left  the  office.  Outside,  their  manner 
changed.  Nudging  elbows  grated  each  other's  ribs. 
The  darkness  hid  their  winks. 

Firmstone  had  made  a  sad  mistake.  He  was  not 
omniscient.  The  men  knew  what  he  did  not.  They 
had  been  down  to  the  Blue  Goose  and  had  returned 
with  a  mission. 


[260] 


CHAPTER  XXV 

A  Divided  House 

* 

IN  her  little  alcove  at  the  Blue  Goose  Elise  was 
gaining  information  every  day  of  the  progress 
of  affairs,  but  in  spite  of  impatience,  in  spite  of 
doubt,   she   had   seen   nothing,   heard   nothing   that 
seemed  to  demand  immediate  action  on  her  part.     She 
had  made  up  her  mind  that  a  crisis  was  approaching. 
She  had  also  determined  with  whom  she  would  cast  in 
her  lot. 

It  was  late  when  Hartwell's  team  pulled  up  at  the 
Blue  Goose.  A  crowd  of  excited  men  surrounded  it, 
but  the  driver  and  his  companions  made  no  reply  to 
loud  questions  as  they  sprang  from  the  wagon  and 
entered  the  door.  Morrison  was  the  first  to  halt  them. 
The  driver  broke  out  with  a  string  of  oaths. 

"  It's  so.  Jack  Haskins's  gang  is  coming.  Hart- 
well  is  taken  care  of  all  right.  If  his  crowd  try  to 
make  it  through  the  canon,  there  won't  a  hundred 
show  up,  to-morrow."  He  ended  with  a  coarse 
laugh. 

[261] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

Morrison  listened  till  the  driver  had  finished.  Then 
he  turned  toward  Pierre.  Pierre  was  standing  just 
in  front  of  the  alcove,  hiding  Elise  from  Morrison. 
Morrison  advanced,  shaking  his  fist. 

"  Now  you've  got  it,  you  trimmer.  What  are  you 
going  to  do?  I  told  you  they  were  coming,  and  I've 
fixed  for  it." 

Pierre  stood  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  There 
was  the  old  oily  smile  on  his  face,  but  his  eyes  were 
dangerous.  Morrison  did  not  observe  them. 

"  Why  don't  you  speak  ?  You're  called."  Morri 
son  glanced  over  his  shoulder  at  the  silent  crowd. 
"  He's  got  a  frog  in  his  throat !  The  last  one  he 
swallowed  didn't  go  down." 

Morrison  was  very  near  death.  He  noticed  the 
crowd  part  hurriedly  and  turned  in  time  to  look  into 
the  muzzle  of  Pierre's  revolver.  The  parting  of  the 
crowd  was  explained. 

An  unlighted  cigar  was  between  Pierre's  teeth. 
They  showed  gleaming  white  under  his  black  mous 
tache.  Only  bright  points  of  light  marked  his  eyes 
between  their  narrowed  lids.  Still  holding  his  revolver 
point-blank,  with  thumb  and  finger  he  raised  and 
lowered  the  hammer.  The  sharp,  even  click  pierced 
Morrison's  nerves  like  electric  shocks.  It  was  not  in 
man  to  endure  this  toying  with  death.  Surprise  gave 
place  to  fear,  and  this  in  turn  to  mortal  agony.  His 
face  paled.  Great  drops  stood  out  on  his  forehead, 


A     DIVIDED     HOUSE 

gathered  and  streamed  down  his  face.  He  feared  to 
move,  yet  he  trembled.  His  legs  shook  under  him. 
There  was  a  final  stagger,  but  his  terrified  eyes  never 
left  Pierre's  face.  With  a  shuddering  groan,  he  sank 
helpless  to  the  floor.  Pierre's  smile  broadened  horri 
bly.  Pie  lowered  his  weapon  and,  turning  aside,  thrust 
it  in  his  pocket. 

Morrison  had  died  a  thousand  deaths.  If  he  lived 
he  would  die  a  thousand  more.  This  Pierre  knew. 
For  this  reason  and  others  he  did  not  shoot.  Pierre 
also  knew  other  things.  Morrison  had  refused  to  take 
heed  to  his  words.  He  had  gone  his  own  way.  He 
had  made  light  of  Pierre  before  the  men.  Last  of  all, 
he  had  gained  courage  to  taunt  Pierre  to  his  face  with 
weakening,  had  bitterly  accused  him  of  using  Elise 
as  a  means  of  ingratiating  himself  with  the  Rainbow 
crowd.  Pierre  was  not  above  taking  a  human  life 
as  a  last  resort ;  but  even  then  he  must  see  clearly  that 
the  gain  warranted  the  risk.  Morrison  had  been 
weighed  and  passed  upon.  A  dead  Morrison  meant  a 
divided  following.  A  living  Morrison,  cowed  and 
beaten  and  shamed  before  them  all,  was  dead  to 
Pierre.  This  was  Pierre's  reasoning,  and  he  was 
right.  The  first  step  had  been  taken.  The  next  one 
he  was  not  to  take;  but  this  fact  did  not  nullify 
Pierre's  logic.  Given  time,  Pierre  knew  that  Morrison 
would  be  beaten,  discredited,  do  what  he  would. 

Luna  helped  the  fallen  Morrison  to  his  feet.  The 
[263] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

\ 

first  thing  Morrison  noticed  was  Pierre  walking  away 
toward  the  private  office.  Luna  again  approached 
Morrison  with  a  brimming  glass  of  brandy. 

"  Take  this  down.  Lord !  That  was  a  nerve- 
peeler  !  I  don't  blame  you  for  going  under." 

Morrison  swallowed  the  liquor  at  a  gulp.  The 
pallor  died  away  and  a  hot  flush  mounted  his  face. 

"  I've  got  him  to  settle  with,  too.  I'll  make  him 
squeal  before  I'm  done." 

The  crowd  had  surged  to  the  door  to  meet  a  swarm 
of  howling  men  who  had  just  come  down  from  the 
mine.  Three  or  four  remained  with  Luna  around 
Morrison.  His  voice  was  hoarse  and  broken. 

"  He's  thrown  us  over.  You  see  that  ?  It's  up  to  us 
to  play  it  alone.  He's  put  it  up  to  your  face  that  he's 
with  you,  but  he's  playing  against  you.  He  can't 
stop  us  now.  It's  gone  too  far.  The  first  tug  is 
coming,  to-morrow.  We'll  win  out,  hands  down.  The 
Rainbow  first,  then  Pierre."  He  ended  with  a  string 
of  profanity. 

Luna  took  up  Morrison's  broken  thread. 

"  There's  fifty  men  with  rifles  in  the  canon.  Hart- 
well's  gang  will  never  get  through.  The  boys  are 
going  to  shoot  at  sight." 

"  Where's  Firmstone  ?  "     Morrison's  face  writhed. 

"  Up  to  the  mine.  He's  getting  in  his  work." 
Luna  looked  over  his  shoulder  at  the  crowd  of 
miners. 

[264] 


A     DIVIDED     HOUSE 

"  That's  so.  The  foreman's  fired.  So  am  I.  He 
is  going  to  die  boss."  The  man  grinned,  as  he  held 
out  a  time  check. 

"  He'll  die,  anyway."  Morrison's  jaws  set. 
"  You're  sure  he's  at  the  mine?  " 

"  Dead  sure.  He's  got  his  work  cut  out  to-night. 
Lots  of  scabs  held  out.  He's  put  the  night  boss  in 
foreman."  The  man  grinned  again. 

Morrison  laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  You're  game?  " 

"You  bet  I  am!" 

"  Go  back  to  the  mine  to-night " 

"  And  miss  all  the  fun  down  here?  "  the  man  inter 
rupted. 

Morrison's  hand  rested  more  heavily  on  the  shoul 
der. 

"  Don't  get  flip.  Have  some  fun  of  your  own  up 
there.  The  supe  will  hear  the  racket  down  here  early. 
He'll  start  down  with  his  scabs  to  help  out.  Two  men 
can  start  a  racket  there  that  will  keep  him  guessing. 
If  he's  started  it  will  fetch  him  back.  If  he  hasn't 
he  won't  start  at  all." 

"  What  kind  of  a  racket,  for  instance  ?  " 

Morrison  swung  impatiently  on  his  foot. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  letting  off  a  box  or  two 
of  powder  under  the  tram  ?  " 

"  Nothing.    Is  that  our  job?  " 

"  Yes.     And  see  that  it's  done." 
[265] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

"  That's  me.  Come  on,  Joe.  Let's  have  a  drink 
first." 

These  two  were  the  penitents  whom  Firmstone  had 
taken  back. 

The  greater  number  of  the  men  were  crowded 
around  the  gilded  bar,  drinking  boisterously  to  the 
success  of  the  union  and  death  to  scabs  and  companies. 
A  few,  more  sober-minded,  but  none  the  less  resolute, 
gathered  around  Morrison.  They  were  the  leaders 
upon  whom  he  depended  for  the  carrying  out  of  his 
orders,  or  for  acting  independently  of  them  on  their 
own  initiative,  as  occasion  might  demand.  With  logic 
fiendish  in  its  cunning,  he  pointed  out  to  them  their 
right  to  organise,  laid  emphasis  on  their  pacific  inten 
tions  only  to  defend  their  rights,  and  having  enlarged 
upon  this,  he  brought  into  full  play  Hartwell's  fatal 
error. 

"  You  see,"  he  concluded ;  "  right  or  wrong,  the 
company's  gone  in  to  win.  They  ain't  taking  no 
chances,  and  the  law's  at  their  backs.  You  know 
Haskins's  gang.  You  know  what  they're  here  for. 
They're  here  to  shoot,  and  they'll  shoot  to  kill.  Sup 
pose  you  go  out  like  lambs  ?  That  won't  make  no  dif 
ference.  It'll  be  too  tame  for  them,  unless  some  one's 
killed.  What  if  it  is  murder  and  one  of  the  gang  is 
pulled?  They've  got  the  whole  gang  at  their  back 
and  the  company's  money.  Suppose  we  go  out  one 
by  one  and  shoot  back  ?  Self-defence  ?  "  Morrison 
[266] 


A     DIVIDED     HOUSE 

snapped  his  fingers.  "  That's  our  chance  to  get  off. 
We've  got  to  pull  together.  In  a  general  mix-up, 
we'll  be  in  it  together,  and  there  ain't  no  law  to  string 
up  the  whole  push.  Stick  together.  That's  our  hold. 
If  Haskins's  gang  is  wiped  out  to-morrow,  and  that 
glass-eyed  supe  with  them,  who'll  get  jumped?  If 
the  mine  and  mill  both  get  blowed  up,  who's  done  it? 
The  fellows  who  did  it  ain't  going  to  tell,  and  it  won't 
be  good  medicine  for  any  one  else  to  do  it,  even  if  he 
wants  to." 

"  Who's  going  to  open  up  ?  "  one  of  the  men  asked, 
soberly. 

Morrison  turned  carelessly. 

"  That's  a  fool  question.  Folks  that  ain't  looking 
for  trouble  don't  put  caps  and  powder  in  a  bag  to 
play  foot-ball  with.  Both  sides  are  putting  up 
kicks.  Who's  to  blame?  " 

The  man  looked  only  half  convinced. 

"  Well,  we  ain't,  and  we  don't  want  to  be.  If  we 
keep  quiet,  and  they  open  up  on  us,  we've  got  a  right 
to  defend  ourselves.  Unless,"  he  added,  meditatively, 
"  we  get  out  beforehand,  then  there  won't  be  any 
questions  to  ask." 

Morrison  turned  fiercely. 

"  How  much  did  you  get  ?  " 

"  Get  for  what?  " 

"  How  much  did  the  company  put  up  to  stand  you 
off?  " 

[267] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

"  I  haven't  been  bought  off  by  the  company,"  the 
man  answered,  fiercely ;  "  and  I  ain't  going  to  be 
fooled  off  by  you." 

Morrison  lifted  his  hand,  palm  outward. 

"  That's  all  right.  Go  right  on,  first  door  right. 
Go  right  in.  Don't  knock.  You'll  find  Pierre.  He's 
scab-herding  now." 

Morrison  passed  among  the  thronging  men,  giving 
suggestions  and  orders  for  the  morning's  struggle. 
His  manner  was  forced,  rather  than  spontaneous. 
Pierre's  leaven  was  working. 

To  Elise  at  her  desk  it  seemed  as  if  the  revel  would 
never  end.  She  had  made  up  her  mind  what  to  do,  she 
was  awaiting  the  time  to  act.  She  did  not  dare  to 
leave  her  place  now;  Morrison  would  be  certain  to 
notice  her  absence  and  would  suspect  her  designs. 
There  was  nothing  to  do  but  wait.  It  was  after  one 
o'clock  when,  slipping  out  from  the  alcove,  she  osten 
tatiously  closed  the  office-door  and,  locking  it,  walked 
through  the  passage  that  led  to  the  dining-room.  Her 
footsteps  sounded  loudly  as  she  went  upstairs  to  her 
room.  She  intended  they  should.  In  her  room,  she 
took  down  a  dark,  heavy  cloak,  and,  throwing  it  over 
her  shoulders,  drew  the  hood  over  her  head.  A  moment 
she  stood,  then  turned  and  silently  retraced  her  steps. 

As  the  outside  door  closed  noiselessly  behind  her, 
there  was  a  momentary  tightening  around  her  heart. 
After  all,  she  was  leaving  the  only  friends  she  had 
[268] 


A     DIVIDED     HOUSE 

ever  known.  They  were  crude,  coarse,  uncouth,  but 
she  knew  them.  She  knew  that  they  would  not  remain 
ignorant  of  her  actions  this  night.  It  would  cut  her 
off  from  them  forever,  and  what  was  her  gain? 

Only  those  she  had  known  for  a  day,  those  whose 
very  words  of  kindness  had  shown  her  how  wide  was 
the  gulf  that  parted  her  from  them.  How  wide  it  was 
she  had  never  realised  till  now  when  she  was  to  attempt 
to  cross  it,  with  the  return  for  ever  barred.  She 
recalled  the  easy  grace  of  Miss  Hartwell,  considerate 
with  a  manner  that  plainly  pointed  to  their  separate 
walks  in  life.  And  Firmstonc?  He  had  been  more 
than  kind,  but  the  friendly  light  in  his  eyes,  the 
mobile  sympathy  of  his  lips,  these  did  not  come  to  her 
now.  What  if  the  steel  should  gleam  in  his  eyes,  the 
tense  muscles  draw  the  lips  in  stem  rebuke,  the  look 
that  those  eyes  and  lips  could  take,  when  they  looked 
on  her,  not  as  Elise  of  the  Blue  Goose,  but  Elise,  a 
fugitive,  a  dependant  ? 

The  colour  deepened,  the  figure  grew  rigid.  She 
was  neither  a  fugitive  nor  a  dependant.  She  was 
doing  right;  how  it  would  be  accepted  was  no  con 
cern  of  hers. 

The  shadow  of  the  great  mountain  fell  across  the 
gulch  and  lay  sharp  and  clear  on  the  flank  of  the  slide 
beyond.  Overhead,  in  the  deep  blue,  the  stars  glinted 
and  shone,  steely  hard.  Elise  shivered  in  a  hitherto 
unknown  terror  as  she  crept  into  the  still  deeper 
[269] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

shadow  of  the  stunted  spruces  that  fringed  the  talus 
from  the  mountain.  She  did  not  look  behind.  Had 
she  done  so  she  might  have  seen  another  shadow  steal 
ing  cautiously,  but  swiftly,  after  her,  only  pausing 
when  she  passed  from  sight  within  the  entrance  to  the 
office  at  the  mill. 

Zephyr  had  despoiled  the  Blue  Goose  of  its  lesser 
prey.  He  had  no  intention  of  stopping  at  that. 

Elise  had  gained  her  first  objective  point.  It  was 
long  before  the  light  in  Miss  Hartwell's  room  over  the 
office  descended  the  stairs  and  appeared  at  the  outer 
door.  Her  face  was  pale,  but  yet  under  control.  Only, 
as  she  clasped  the  hand  that  had  knocked  for  admis 
sion,  she  could  not  control  the  grasp  that  would  not 
let  go  its  hold,  even  when  the  door  was  relocked. 

"  It  was  very  good  of  you  to  come." 


[270] 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

The  Day  of  Reckoning 

IF  Miss  Hartwell  was  a  debtor  she  was  a  creditor 
as  well.     In  spite  of  a  calm  exterior,  the  hand 
that    so    tightly    clasped    Elise's    throbbed    and 
pulsed  with  every  tumultuous  beat  of  the  heart  that 
was  stirred  with  a  strange  excitement  born  of  mortal 
terror.     Gradually  the  rapid  strokes  slowed  down  till, 
with  the  restful  calm  that  comes  to  strained  nerves  in 
the  presence  of  a  stronger,  unquestioning  will,  the 
even  ebb  and  flow  of  pulsing  blood  resumed  its  normal 
tenor. 

The  bread  that  Elise  had  cast  upon  the  waters 
returned  to  her  in  a  manifold  measure.  The  vague 
sense  of  oppression  which  she  had  felt  on  leaving  the 
doors  of  the  Blue  Goose  gave  way  to  an  equally  vague 
sense  of  restful  assurance.  She  could  dissect  neither 
emotion,  nor  could  she  give  either  a  name.  The  sense 
of  comfort  was  vague;  other  emotions  stood  out 
clearly.  These  demanded  immediate  attention.  She 
rose  gently,  but  decidedly.  The  calm  beat  of  the 
clasping  hand  again  quickened  with  her  motion. 

"  I  must  leave  you  now."  Her  voice  was  even,  but 
full  of  sympathy. 

[271] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 
"  Don't.     Please  don't.     I  can't  bear  it." 
"  I  must ;  and  you  must."    She  was  gently  freeing 
the  clasping  hand. 

"  Where  are  you  going?  " 
"  To  the  mine,  to  warn  Mr.  Firmstone." 
"  Don't  go!     Why  not  telephone?  "     The  last  was 
spoken   with    eagerness   born   of  the   inspiration    of 
despair. 

"  The  wires  are  cut."  Her  hand  was  free  now 
and  Miss  Hartwell  was  also  standing.  There  was  a 
deathly  pallor  on  the  quiet  face,  only  the  rapid  beat 
of  the  veins  on  her  temples  showed  the  violence  of  the 
emotion  she  was  mastering  so  well. 
"But  my  brother?" 

"  Your  brother  is  perfectly  safe."  Elise  told  briefly 
the  circumstances  of  Hartwell's  capture  and  detention. 
"  They  have  men  posted  in  the  canon ;  they  have  men 
between  here  and  the  mine.  Mr.  Firmstone  does  not 
know  it.  He  will  try  to  come  down.  They  will  kill 
him.  He  must  not  try  to  come  down." 

"  How  can  you  get  up  there  ?  "     Miss  Hartwell 
clutched  eagerly  at  this  straw. 
Elise  smiled  resolutely. 

"  I  am  going  up  on  the  tram.  Now  you  must  listen 
carefully."  She  unbuckled  her  belt  and  placed  her 
revolver  in  Miss  Hartwell's  listless  hands.  "  Keep 
away  from  the  windows.  If  there  is  any  firing  lie 
down  on  the  floor  close  to  the  wall.  Nothing  will  get 


THE     DAY     OF     RECKONING 

through   the   logs."      She   turned   toward  the   door. 
"  You  must  come  and  lock  up  after  me." 

At  the  door  Miss  Hartwell  stood  for  a  moment, 
irresolute.  She  offered  no  further  objections  to 
Elise's  going.  That  it  cost  a  struggle  was  plainly 
shown  in  the  working  lines  of  her  face.  Only  for  a 
moment  she  stood,  then,  yielding  to  an  overmastering 
impulse,  she  laid  her  hands  on  the  shoulders  of  Elise. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  whispered.  "  You  are  a  brave 
girl." 

Elise  bent  her  lips  to  those  of  Miss  Hartwell. 

"  Yours  is  the  hardest  part.  But  it  isn't  good-bye." 

The  door  closed  behind  her,  and  she  heard  the  click 
of  the  bolt  shot  home. 

There  were  a  few  resolute  men  in  the  mill.  It  was 
short-handed;  but  the  beating  stamps  pounded  out 
defiance.  In  the  tram  tower  Elise  spoke  to  the  attend 
ant. 

"  Stop  the  tram." 

The  swarthy  Italian  touched  his  hat. 

"  Yes,  miss." 

The  grinding  brake  was  applied  and  an  empty 
bucket  swung  gently  to  and  fro. 

"  Now,  Joe,  do  just  as  I  tell  you.  I  am  going  up 
in  this  bucket."  She  glanced  at  the  number.  "  When 
three-twenty  comes  in  stop.  Don't  start  up  again  for 
a  half  hour  at  least." 

The  man  looked  at  her  in  dumb  surprise. 
[273] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

"  You  go  in  the  tram?  "  he  asked.     "  What  for?  " 

"  To  warn  Mr.  Firmstone." 

For  reply,  the  man  brushed  her  aside  and  began 
clambering  into  the  empty  bucket. 

"  Me  go,"  he  said,  grimly. 

Elise  laid  a  detaining  hand  upon  him. 

"  No.    You  must  run  the  tram.    I  can't." 

"Me  go,"  he  insisted.  "Cable  jump  sheave? 
What  matter?  One  damn  dago  gone.  Plenty  more. 
No  more  Elise." 

Elise  pulled  at  him  violently.  He  was  ill-balanced. 
The  pull  brought  him  to  the  floor,  but  Elise  did  not 
loose  her  hold.  Her  eyes  were  flashing. 

"  Do  as  I  told  you." 

The  man  brought  a  ladder  and  Elise  sprang 
lightly  up  the  rounds. 

"  All  right,"  she  said.     "  Go  ahead." 

The  man  unloosed  the  brake.  There  was  a  tremor 
along  the  cable ;  the  next  instant  the  bucket  shot  from 
the  door  of  the  tower  and  glided  swiftly  up  the  line. 

"  Don't  forget.  Three-twenty."  Already  the  voice 
was  faint  with  distance. 

In  spite  of  injunctions  to  the  contrary,  Miss  Hart- 
well  was  looking  out  of  the  window.  She  saw,  below 
the  shafts  of  sunlight  already  streaming  over  the 
mountain,  the  line  of  buckets  stop,  swing  back  and 
forth,  saw  the  cable  tremble,  and  again  the  long  line  of 
buckets  sway  gently  as  the  cable  grew  taut  and  the 
[274] 


THE     DAY     OF     RECKONING 

buckets  again  slid  up  and  down.  Her  heart  was  beat 
ing  wildly  as  she  lifted  her  eyes  to  the  dizzy  height. 
She  knew  well  what  the  stopping  and  the  starting 
meant.  Sharp  drawn  against  the  lofty  sky,  the  great 
cable  seemed  a  slender  thread  to  hold  a  human  life  in 
trust.  What  if  the  clutch  should  slip  that  held  the 
bucket  in  place?  What  if  other  clutches  should  slip 
and  let  the  heavy  masses  of  steel  slide  down  the  cable 
to  dash  into  the  one  that  held  the  girl  who  had  grown 
so  dear  to  her?  In  vain  she  pushed  these  possibilities 
aside.  They  returned  with  increased  momentum  and 
hurled  themselves  into  her  shrinking  soul.  There  were 
these  dangers.  "  All  employees  of  the  Rainbow  Com 
pany  are  forbidden  to  ride  on  the  tram.  ANY 

EMPLOYEE   VIOLATING  THIS   RULE   WILL  BE   INSTANTLY 

DISCHARGED."  These  words  burned  themselves  on  her 
vision  in  characters  of  fire.  Elise  had  explained  all 
of  these  things  to  her,  and  now !  She  buried  her  face 
in  her  trembling  hands.  Not  for  long.  Again  her 
face,  pale  and  drawn,  was  turned  upward.  She 
moaned  aloud.  A  black  mass  clinging  to  the  cable  was 
rising  and  sinking,  swaying  from  side  to  side,  a  slen 
der  figure  poised  in  the  swinging  bucket,  steadied  by 
a  white  hand  that  grasped  the  rim  of  steel.  She 
turned  from  the  window  resolved  to  see  no  more.  Her 
resolution  fled.  She  was  again  at  the  window  with  up 
turned  face  and  straining  eyes,  white  lips  whispering 
prayers  that  God  might  be'  good  to  the  girl  who  was 
[275] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

risking  her  life  for  another.  The  slender  threads 
even  then  had  vanished.  There  was  only  a  fleck  of 
black  floating  high  above  the  rambling  town,  above 
the  rocks  mercilessly  waiting  below.  She  did  not  see 
all.  At  the  mine  two  stealthy  men  were  even  then 
stuffing  masses  of  powder  under  the  foundations  that 
held  the  cables  to  their  work.  Even  as  she  looked  and 
prayed  a  flickering  candle  flame  licked  into  fiery  life 
a  hissing,  spitting  fuse  and  two  men  scrambled  and 
clambered  to  safety  from  the  awful  wreck  that  was 
to  come.  A  smoking  fuse  eating  its  way  to  death 
and  "  320  "  not  yet  in  the  mill !  She  saw  another 
sight. 

From  out  the  shadow  of  the  eastern  mountain,  a 
band  of  uncouth  men  emerged,  swung  into  line  and 
bunched  on  the  level  terrace  beyond  the  boarding- 
house.  Simultaneously  every  neighbouring  boulder 
blossomed  forth  in  tufts  of  creamy  white  that  writhed 
and  widened  till  they  melted  in  thin  air  like  noisome, 
dark-grown  fungi  that  wilt  in  the  light  of  day. 
Beyond  and  at  the  feet  of  the  clustered  men  spiteful 
spurts  of  dust  leaped  high  in  air,  then  drifted  and 
sank,  to  be  replaced  by  others.  Faint,  meaningless 
cries  wove  through  the  drifting  crash  of  rifles,  blos 
soming  tufts  sprang  up  again  and  again  from  boul 
ders  near  and  far.  Answering  cries  flew  back  from 
the  opening  cluster  of  men,  other  tufts  tongued  with 
yellow  flame  sprang  out  from  their  levelled  guns. 
[276] 


THE     DAY     OF     RECKONING 

Now  and  then  a  man  spun  around  and  dropped,  a 
huddled  grey  on  the  spurting  sand. 

It  was  not  in  man  long  to  endure  the  sheltered  fire. 
Dragging  their  wounded,  Jack  Haskins's  gang  again 
converged,  and  headed  in  wild  retreat  for  the  office. 
The  opposing  tufts  came  nearer,  and  now  and  then 
a  dark  form  straightened  and  advanced  to  another 
shelter,  or  was  hidden  from  sight  by  a  bubble  of 
fleecy  white  that  burst  from  his  shoulder.  Close  at 
the  heels  of  the  fleeing  men  the  spiteful  spurts  fol 
lowed  fast,  till  they  died  out  in  the  thud  of  smitten 
logs  and  the  crashing  glass  of  the  office. 

The  answering  fire  of  the  beleaguered  men  died  to 
silence.  The  dark,  distant  forms  grew  daring,  ran 
from  shelter  and  clustered  at  the  foot  of  the  slide, 
across  the  trail  from  the  Blue  Goose.  Rambling  shots, 
yells  of  defiance  and  triumph,  broke  from  the  gather 
ing  strikers.  The  shafts  of  sunlight  had  swept  down 
the  mountain,  smiting  hard  the  polished  windows  of 
the  Blue  Goose  that  blazed  and  flamed  in  their  fierce 
glory. 

Suddenly  the  clustered  throng  of  strikers  broke  and 
fled.  Cries  of  terror  pierced  the  air. 

"The  cables!    The  cables!" 

Overhead  the  black  webs  were  sinking  and  rising 

with  spiteful  snaps  that  whirled  the  buckets  in  wild 

confusion  and  sent  their  heavy  loads  of  ore  crashing 

to  the  earth,  five  hundred  feet  below.     Then,  with  a 

[277] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

rushing,  dragging  sweep,  buckets  and  cables  whirled 
downward.  Full  on  the  Blue  Goose  the  tearing  cables 
fell,  dragging  it  to  earth,  a  crushed  and  broken  mass. 

Morrison's  emissaries  had  done  their  work  well. 
The  tram-house  at  the  mine  had  been  blown  up.  They 
had  accomplished  more  than  he  had  hoped  for.  Pierre 
was  in  the  bar-room  when  the  cables  fell.  He  had  no 
time  to  escape,  even  had  he  seen  or  known. 

Momentarily  forgetful,  the  strikers  swarmed 
around  the  fallen  building,  tearing  aside  crushed 
timbers,  tugging  at  the  snarled  cable,  if  perchance 
some  of  their  own  were  within  the  ruins.  There  came 
the  spiteful  spat  of  a  solitary  bullet,  then  a  volley. 
With  a  yell  of  terror,  the  strikers  broke  and  fled  to 
the  talus  behind  the  saloon.  They  were  now  the  pur 
sued.  They  paused  to  fire  no  return  shots.  Stumbling, 
scrambling,  dodging,  through  tangled  scrub  and 
sheltering  thicket,  down  by  the  mill,  down  through  the 
canon,  spurred  by  zipping  bullets  that  clipped  twigs 
and  spat  on  stones  around  them ;  down  by  the  Devil's 
Elbow  they  fled,  till  sheltering  scrub  made  pursuit 
dangerous;  then,  unmolested,  they  scattered,  one  by 
one,  in  pairs,  in  groups,  never  to  return. 

Even  yet  the  startled  echoes  were  repeating  to  the 
peaceful  mountains  the  tale  of  riot  and  death,  but 
they  bent  not  from  their  calm  to  the  calm  below  that 
was  looking  up  to  them  with  the  eyes  of  death.  Set 
in  its  frame  of  splintered  timbers,  the  body  of  Pierre 
[278] 


THE     DAY     OF     RECKONING 

rested,  a  ruined  life  in  a  ruined  structure,  and  both 
still  in  death.  Wide-open  eyes  stared  from  the 
swarthy  face,  the  strained  lips  parted  in  a  sardonic 
smile,  showing  for  the  last  time  the  gleaming  teeth. 
Morrison  had  triumphed,  but  the  wide  open  eyes  saw 
the  triumph  that  was  yet  defeat.  Far  up  on  the 
mountain-side  they  looked  and  saw  death  pursuing 
death.  They  saw  Morrison  climbing  higher  and 
higher,  saw  him  strain  his  eyes  ever  ahead,  never 
behind,  saw  them  rest  on  two  figures,  saw  Morrison 
crouch  behind  a  rock  and  a  shimmer  of  light  creep 
along  the  barrel  of  his  levelled  rifle.  The  eyes  seemed 
eager  as  they  rested  on  another  figure  above  him  that 
stretched  forth  a  steady  hand;  saw  jets  of  flame 
spring  from  two  guns.  Then  they  gleamed  with  a 
brighter  light  as  they  saw  the  rifle  fall  from  Morri 
son's  hand;  saw  Morrison  straighten  out,  even  as  he 
lay,  his  face  upturned  and  silent.  That  was  all  in 
life  that  Pierre  cared  to  know.  Perhaps  the  sun  had 
changed,  but  the  gleam  of  triumph  in  the  staring  eyes 
faded  to  the  glazr  of  death. 

Elise  knew  well  the  danger  that  went  with  her  up 
the  line.  It  laid  strong  hold  upon  her,  as  the  loosened 
brake  shot  the  bucket  up  the  dizzy  cable.  As  she  was 
swept  up  higher  and  higher  she  could  only  hope  and 
pray  that  the  catastrophe  which  she  knew  was  coming 
might  be  delayed  until  the  level  stretch  above  the  Falls 
was  reached,  where  the  cables  ran  so  near  the  ground 
[279] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

she  might  descend  in  safety.  She  had  given  Joe  the 
right  number,  and  she  knew  that  nothing  short  of 
death  would  keep  him  from  heeding  her  words.  She 
turned  her  thoughts  to  other  things.  Cautiously  she 
raised  her  eyes  above  the  rim  of  the  bucket  and 
scanned  the  winding  trail.  She  saw  men  crouching 
behind  boulders,  but  Firmstone  was  not  in  sight,  and 
strength  and  courage  returned.  Her  bucket  swept  up 
over  the  crest  of  the  Falls,  and  her  heart  stood  still, 
as  it  glided  along  swiftly,  eating  up  the  level  distance 
to  another  rise.  The  saddle  clipped  over  the  sheave, 
swung  for  an  instant,  then  stood  still.  She  clambered 
out,  down  the  low  tower,  then  sped  to  the  trail  and 
waited. 

She  rose  to  her  feet,  as  from  behind  a  sheltered 
cliff  Firmstone  emerged,  stern,  erect,  determined.  He 
caught  sight  of  Elise. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  he  asked,  fiercely. 

"  To  keep  you  from  going  to  the  mill."  There  was 
an  answering  fierceness  in  her  eyes. 

"  Well,  you  are  not  going  to."  He  brushed  her 
aside. 

"  I  am."    She  was  again  in  his  path. 

He  took  hold  of  her  almost  harshly. 

"  Don't  be  a  fool." 

"  Am  I?  Listen."  There  was  the  glint  of  steel  on 
steel  in  the  meeting  eyes.  Echoing  shots  dulled  by 
distance  yet  smote  plainly  on  their  ears.  "  Morrison's 
[280] 


THE     DAY     OF     RECKONING 

men  are  guarding  the  trail.     They  are  in  the  canon. 
You  can't  get  through." 

Firmstone's  eyes  softened  as  he  looked  into  hers. 
The  set  line  broke  for  an  instant,  then  he  looked  down 
the  trail.  Suddenly  he  spun  around  on  his  heel,  wa 
vered,  then  sank  to  the  ground. 

Elise  dropped  on  her  knees  beside  him,  mumbling 
inaudible  words  with  husky  voice.  The  hands  that 
loosened  the  reddening  collar  of  his  shirt  were  firm 
and  decided.  She  did  not  hear  the  grate  of  Zephyr's 
shoes.  She  was  only  conscious  of  other  hands  putting 
hers  aside.  His  knife  cut  the  clothes  that  hid  the 
wound.  Zephyr  took  his  hat  from  his  head. 

"  Water,"  he  said,  holding  out  the  hat. 

Elise  returned  from  the  brook  with  the  brimming 
hat.  The  closed  eyes  opened  at  the  cooling  drops. 

"  It's  not  so  bad."  He  tried  to  rise,  but  Zephyr 
restrained  him. 

"  Not  yet." 

Elise  was  looking  anxiously  above  the  trail.  Zephyr 
noted  the  direction. 

"  No  danger.     'Twas  Morrison.     He's  done  for." 

Three  or  four  miners  were  coming  down  the  trail. 
They  paused  at  the  little  group.  Zephyr  looked  up. 

"  You're  wanted.     The  old  man's  hit." 

A  litter  was  improvised  and  slowly  and  carefully 
they  bore  the  wounded  man  down  the  trail.     Zephyr 
was  far  in  advance.    He  returned. 
[281] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

"  It's  all  right.    The  gang's  on  the  run." 

The  little  procession  headed  straight  for  the  office, 
and  laid  their  burden  on  the  floor. 

The  company  surgeon  looked  grave,  as  he  carefully 
exposed  the  wound.  To  Elise  it  seemed  ages. 

Finally  he  spoke. 

"  It's  a  nasty  wound ;  but  he'll  pull  through." 


[882] 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

Passing  Clouds 

IN  spite  of  the  surgeon's  hopeful  words,  the  path 
to  recovery  lay  fearfully  near  the  gate  of  death. 
Firmstone  had   been   shot  from  above,  and  the 
bullet,  entering  at  the  base  of  the  neck  just  in  front  of 
the  throat,  had  torn  its  way  beneath  the  collar-bone, 
passing  through  the  left  arm  below  the  shoulder. 

During  the  period  of  trying  suspense,  when  Firm- 
stone's  life  wavered  in  the  balance,  through  the  longer 
period  of  convalescence,  he  lacked  not  devotion,  love, 
nor  skill  to  aid  him.  Zephyr  was  omnipresent,  but 
never  obtrusive.  Bennie,  with  voiceless  words  and 
aggressive  manner,  plainly  declared  that  a  sizzling 
cookstove  with  a  hot  temper  that  never  cooled  was 
more  efficacious  than  a  magazine  of  bandages  and  a 
college  of  surgeons. 

Elise  cared  for  Firmstone,  Madame  for  Elise. 
Zephyr's  rod  and  rifle,  with  Bennie's  stove,  supplied 
that  without  which  even  the  wisest  counsel  comes  to  an 
inglorious  end.  Over  all  Elise  reigned  an  uncrowned 
queen,  with  no  constitution,  written  or  unwritten,  to 
[283] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

hamper  her  royal  will.  Even  the  company  surgeon 
had  to  give  a  strict  accounting.  The  soft,  red  lips 
could  not  hide  the  hard,  straight  lines  beneath  rounded 
curves,  nor  the  liquid  black  of  velvet  eyes  break  the 
insistent  glint  of  an  active,  decisive  mind. 

Miss  Hartwell  was  still  pretty  and  willing,  but  yet 
helpless  and  oppressed.  It  was  therefore  with  a  re 
gretted  sense  of  relief  that  the  arrival  of  Miss  Firm- 
stone  removed  the  last  appearance  of  duty  that  kept 
her  in  useless  toleration.  Hartwell's  capacious  sleeve 
held  a  ready  card  which  awaited  but  an  obvious  oppor 
tunity  for  playing.  No  sooner  was  Firmstone  pro 
nounced  out  of  danger  than  the  card,  in  the  form  of 
urgent  business,  was  played,  and  Hartwell  and  his 
sister  left  for  the  East. 

Like  her  brother,  Miss  Firmstone  evidently  had  a 
will  of  her  own,  and,  also  like  her  brother,  a  well- 
balanced  mind  to  control  its  manifestations.  There 
was  a  short,  sharp  battle  of  eyes  when  first  the  self- 
throned  queen  was  brought  face  to  face  with  her  pos 
sible  rival.  The  conflict  was  without  serious  results, 
for  Miss  Firmstone,  in  addition  to  will  and  judgment, 
had  also  tact  and  years  superior  to  Elise.  These  were 
mere  fortuitous  adjuncts  which  had  been  denied  Elise. 
So  it  happened  that,  though  a  rebellious  pupil,  Elise 
learned  many  valuable  lessons.  She  was  ready  and 
willing  to  defy  the  world  individually  and  collectively ; 
yet  she  stood  in  awe  of  herself. 
[284] 


PASSING     CLOUDS 

One  afternoon  Firmstone  was  sitting  in  his  room, 
looking  out  of  his  window,  and  in  spite  of  the  gran 
deur  of  the  mountain  there  was  little  of  glory  but 
much  of  gloom  in  his  thoughts.  The  mine  was  in 
ruins;  so,  as  far  as  he  could  see,  were  his  labours,  his 
ambitions,  and  his  prospects.  He  tried  to  keep  his 
thoughts  on  the  gloom  of  the  clouds  and  shut  his  eyes 
to  their  silver  lining.  The  silver  lining  was  in  softly 
glowing  evidence,  but  he  could  not  persuade  himself 
that  it  was  for  him.  Step  by  step  he  was  going  over 
every  incident  of  his  intercourse  with  Elise.  Their 
first  meeting,  her  subsequent  warning  that  his  life  was 
in  serious  danger,  her  calm,  resolute  putting  aside  of 
all  thought  of  danger  to  herself,  her  daring  ride  up 
the  tram  to  keep  him  from  sure  death  when  she  knew 
that  the  tram-house  was  to  be  blown  up,  that  the  catas 
trophe  might  occur  at  any  moment,  her  unremitting 
care  of  him,  wounded  near  to  death:  all  these  came 
to  him,  filled  him  with  a  longing  love  that  left  no 
nerve  nor  fibre  of  heart  or  soul  untouched  with  thrills 
that,  for  all  their  pain,  were  even  yet  not  to  be  stilled 
by  his  own  volition.  Firmstone  grew  more  thought 
ful.  He  realised  that  Elise  was  only  a  girl  in  years, 
yet  her  natural  life,  untrammelled  by  conventional 
proprieties  which  distract  and  dissipate  the  limited 
energy  in  a  thousand  divergent  channels,  had  forced 
her  whole  soul  into  the  maturity  of  many  waxing  and 
waning  seasons.  Every  manifestation  of  her  restless, 
[285] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

active  mind  had  stood  out  clear  and  sharp  in  the  purity 
of  unconscious  self.  This  was  the  disturbing  element 
in  Firmstone's  anxious  mind.  Responsive  to  every 
mood,  fiercely  unsparing  of  herself,  yet  every  at 
tempted  word  of  grateful  appreciation  from  him  had 
been  anticipated  and  all  but  fiercely  repelled.  With 
all  his  acumen,  Firmstone  yet  failed  to  comprehend 
two  very  salient  features  of  a  woman's  heart,  that, 
however  free  and  spontaneous  she  may  be,  there  is 
one  emotion  instinctively  and  jealously  guarded,  that 
she  will  reject,  with  indignation,  gratitude  offered  as 
a  substitute  for  love. 

Firmstone's  meditations  were  interrupted  by  a 
knock  on  the  door.  Zephyr  came  in,  holding  out  a 
bulky  envelope.  It  was  from  the  eastern  office  of  the 
Rainbow  Company.  Firmstone's  face  stiffened  as  he 
broke  the  seals.  Zephyr  noted  the  look  and,  after  an 
introductory  whistle,  said: 

"  'Tisn't  up  to  you  to  fret  now,  Goggles.  Foolish 
ness  at  two  cents  an  ounce  or  fraction  thereof  is  more 
expensive  than  passenger  rates  at  four  dollars  a 
pound." 

Firmstone  looked  up  absently. 

"  What's  that  you're  saying?  " 

Zephyr  waved  his  hand  languidly. 

"  I  was  right.  Have  been  all  along.  I  knew  you 
had  more  sense  than  you  could  carry  in  your  head. 
It's  all  over  you,  and  you  got  some  of  it  shot  away. 
[286] 


PASSING     CLOUDS 

I'm  trying  to  make  it  plain  to  you  that  foolishness  on 
paper  ain't  near  so  fatal  as  inside  a  skull.  Conse 
quently,  if  them  Easterners  had  had  any  serious  de 
signs  on  you,  they'd  sent  the  real  stuff  back  in  a  Pull 
man  instead  of  the  smell  of  it  by  mail." 

Firmstone  made  no  reply,  but  went  on  with  his 
letter.  There  was  amusement  and  indignation  on  his 
face  as,  having  finished  the  letter,  he  handed  it  to 
Zephyr. 

The  letter  was  from  Hartwell  and  was  official. 
Briefly,  it  expressed  regret  over  Firmstone's  serious 
accident,  satisfaction  at  his  recovery,  and  congratu 
lations  that  a  serious  complication  had  been  met  and 
obviated  with,  all  things  considered,  so  slight  a  loss 
to  the  company.  The  letter  concluded  as  follows: 

We  have  carefully  considered  the  statement  of  the  difficulties 
with  which  you  have  been  confronted,  as  reported  by  our  manager, 
and  fully  comprehend  them.  We  have  also  given  equal  considera 
tion  to  his  plans  for  the  rehabilitation  of  the  mine  and  mill,  and 
heartily  assent  to  them  as  well  as  to  his  request  that  you  be  re 
tained  as  our  superintendent  and  that,  in  addition  to  your  salary, 
you  be  granted  a  considerable  share  in  the  stock  of  our  company. 
We  feel  that  we  are  warranted  in  pursuing  this  course  with  you, 
recognising  that  it  is  a  rare  thing,  in  one  having  the  ability  which 
you  have  shown,  to  take  counsel  with  and  even  frankly  to  adopt 
the  suggestions  of  another. 

By  order  of  the  President  and  Board  of  Directors  of  the  Rain 
bow  Milling  Company,  by 

ARTHUR  HARTWELL, 

Gen.  Man.  and  Acting  Secretary. 

[287] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

Zephyr's  face  worked  in  undulations  that  in  nar 
rowing  concentrics  reached  the  puckered  apex  of  his 
lips. 

"  Bees,"  he  finally  remarked,  "  are  ding-twisted, 
ornery  insects.  They  have,  however,  one  redeeming 
quality  not  common  to  mosquitoes  and  black  flies.  If 
they  sting  with  one  end  they  make  honey  with  the 
other.  They  ain't  neither  to  be  cussed  nor  com 
mended.  They're  just  built  on  them  lines." 

Firmstone  looked  thoughtful. 

"  I'm  inclined  to  think  you're  right.  If  you're 
looking  for  honey  you've  got  to  take  chances  on  being 
stung." 

"  Which  I  take  to  mean  that  you  have  decided  to 
hive  your  bees  in  this  particular  locality." 

Firmstone  nodded. 

Zephyr  looked  expectantly  at  Firmstone,  and  then 
continued : 

"  I  also  wish  to  remark  that  there  are  certain  in 
conveniences  connected  with  being  an  uncommonly 
level-headed  man.  There's  no  telling  when  you've  got 
to  whack  up  with  your  friends." 

"  All  right."  Firmstone  half  guessed  at  what  was 
coming. 

"  Madame,"  Zephyr  remarked,  "  having  been  de 
prived  by  the  hand  of  death  of  her  legal  protectors, 
namely,  Pierre  and  Morrison,  wishes  to  take  counsel 
with  you." 

[288] 


PASSING     CLOUDS 

Zephyr,  waiting  no  further  exchange  of  words,  left 
the  room  and  shortly  returned  with  Madame.  She 
paused  at  the  door,  darted  a  frightened  look  at  Firm- 
stone,  then  one  of  pathetic  appeal  to  the  imperturb 
able  Zephyr.  Again  her  eyes  timidly  sought  Firm- 
stone,  who,  rising,  advanced  with  outstretched  hand. 
Madame's  hands  were  filled  with  bundled  papers.  In 
nervously  trying  to  move  them,  in  order  to  accept 
Firmstone's  proffered  hand,  the  bundles  fell  scattered 
to  the  floor.  With  an  embarrassed  exclamation,  she 
hastily  stooped  to  recover  them  and  in  her  effort  col 
lided  with  Zephyr,  who  had  been  actuated  by  the  same 
motive. 

Zephyr  rubbed  his  head  with  one  hand,  gathering 
up  the  papers  with  the  other. 

"  If  Madame  wore  her  heart  on  her  neck  instead 
of  under  her  ribs,  I  would  have  had  two  hands  free 
instead  of  one.  Which  same  being  put  in  literal 
speech  means  that  there's  nothing  against  nature  in 
having  a  hard  head  keeping  step  with  a  tender 
heart." 

Madame  was  at  last  seated  with  her  papers  in  her 
lap.  She  was  ill  at  ease  in  the  fierce  consciousness  of 
self,  but  her  flushed  face  and  frightened  eyes  only 
showed  the  growing  mastery  of  unselfish  love  over  the 
threatening  lions  that  waited  in  her  path.  One  by 
one,  she  tendered  the  papers  to  Firmstone,  who  read 
them  with  absorbed  attention.  As  the  last  paper  was 
[289] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

laid  with  its  fellows  Madame's  eyes  met  fearlessly  the 
calm  look  of  the  superintendent.  Slowly,  laboriously 
at  first,  but  gathering  assurance  with  oblivion  of  self, 
she  told  the  story  of  Elise's  birth.  With  the  intuition 
of  an  overpowering  love,  she  felt  that  she  was  tell 
ing  the  story  to  one  absolutely  trustworthy,  able  and 
willing  to  counsel  her  with  powers  far  beyond  her 
own.  Firmstone  heard  far  more  than  the  stumbling 
words  recited.  His  eyes  dimmed,  but  his  voice  was 
steady. 

"  I  think  I  understand.  You  want  Elise  restored 
to  her  friends  ?  " 

Madame's  eyes  slowly  filled  with  tears  that  welled 
over  the  trembling  lids  and  rolled  down  her  cheeks. 
She  did  not  try  to  speak.  She  only  nodded  in  silent 
acquiescence.  She  sat  silent  for  a  few  moments,  then 
the  trembling  lips  grew  firm,  but  her  voice  could  not 
be  controlled. 

"  We  ought  to  have  done  it  long  ago,  Pierre  and  I. 
But  I  loved  her.  Pierre  loved  her.  She  was  all  we 
had."  It  was  worse  than  death.  Death  only  removes 
the  presence,  it  leaves  the  consoling  sense  of  possession 
through  all  eternity. 

Zephyr  started  to  speak,  but  Firmstone,  turning 
to  Madame,  interrupted. 

"  You  have  no  need  to  fear.  Where  you  cannot  go 
Elise  will  not." 

Madame  looked  up  suddenly.  The  rainbow  of  hope 
[290] 


PASSING     CLOUDS 

glowed  softly  for  an  instant  in  the  tear-dimmed  eyes. 
Then  the  light  died  out.  "  She  will  be  ashamed  of 
her  hoi'  daddy  and  her  hoi'  mammy  before  her  gran' 
friends."  Pierre's  words  came  to  her,  laden  with  her 
own  un worthiness. 

The  door  opened  and  Elise  and  Miss  Firmstone 
came  in.  Miss  Firmstone  took  in  the  situation  at  a 
glance. 

"  You  are  reliable  people  to  trust  with  a  convales 
cent,  aren't  you?  And  after  the  doctor's  warning 
that  all  excitement  was  to  be  avoided !  " 

"  Doctors  don't  know  everything,"  Zephyr  ex 
ploded,  in  violence  to  his  custom.  Then,  more  in  ac 
cord  with  it,  "  It  does  potatoes  no  end  of  good  to  be 
hilled." 

Elise  looked  questioning  surprise,  as  her  glance  fell 
on  Madame,  then  on  Zephyr.  Her  eyes  rested  lightly 
for  a  moment  on  Firmstone.  There  was  a  fleeting 
suggestion  that  quickened  his  pulses  and  deepened  the 
flush  on  his  face.  Again  her  eyes  were  on  Madame. 
Pity,  love,  glowed  softly  at  sight  of  the  bowed  head. 
She  advanced  a  step,  and  her  hand  and  arm  rested 
on  Madame's  shoulders.  Madame  shivered  slightly, 
then  grew  rigid.  Nothing  should  interfere  with  her 
duty  to  Elise. 

Elise  straightened,  but  her  arm  was  not  re 
moved. 

"  What  is  it?  What  have  you  been  saying?  "  She 
[291] 


THE    BLUE    GOOSE 

was  looking  fixedly  at  Firmstone.  There  was  no  ten 
derness  in  her  eyes,  only  a  demand  that  was  not  to  be 
ignored. 

Firmstone  began  a  brief  capitulation  of  his  inter 
view  with  Madame.  When  he  told  her  that  she  was 
not  Madame's  daughter,  that  she  was  to  be  restored  to 
her  unknown  friends,  that  Madame  wished  it,  the 
change  that  came  over  the  girl  amazed  him.  Her 
eyes  were  flashing.  Her  clinched  hands  thrust  back 
ward,  as  if  to  balance  the  forward,  defiant  poise  of 
her  body. 

"  That  is  not  so !  You  have  frightened  her  into 
saying  what  she  does  not  mean.  You  don't  want  me 
to  leave  you ;  do  you  ?  Tell  me  you  don't !  "  She 
turned  to  Madame,  fiercely. 

Firmstone  gave  Madame  no  time  to  answer. 

"  Wait,"  he  commanded.  "  You  don't  understand." 
His  words  were  impetuous  with  the  intensity  of  his 
emotion.  "  I  don't  want  you  to  leave  Madame.  You 
are  not  going  to.  Don't  you  understand?  "  He  laid 
his  hand  on  hers,  but  she  shook  it  off. 

He  withdrew  his  hand. 

"  Very  well,  but  listen."  Himself  he  put  aside ; 
but  he  was  not  to  be  diverted  from  his  purpose.  He 
felt  that  in  the  life  of  the  girl  before  him  a  vital 
crisis  was  impending,  that,  unforeseeing  of  conse 
quences,  she,  in  the  sheer  delight  of  overcoming  op 
posing  wills,  might  be  impelled  to  a  step  that  would 


PASSING     CLOUDS 

bring  to  naught  all  her  glorious  possibilities.  The 
thought  hardened  his  every  mental  fibre.  He  was 
looking  into  eyes  that  gleamed  with  open,  resolute 
defiance. 

"  You  and  Madame  are  not  to  be  separated.  You 
are  going  East  with  my  sister  and  Madame  is 
going  with  you:  You  are  going  to  your  father's 
friends." 

"  Is  that  all?  "     The  voice  was  mocking. 

"  No.  I  want  your  word  that  you  will  do  as  I 
say." 

Without  seeming  to  turn  her  defiant  eyes,  Elise 
laid  her  hand  firmly  on  Madame. 

"  Come." 

Madame  rose  in  response  to  the  impulse  of  hand 
and  word.  She  cast  a  frightened,  appealing  look 
at  Firmstone,  then  with  Elise  moved  toward  the 
door. 

On  the  threshold  Firmstone  barred  the  way. 

"  I  have  not  had  my  answer." 

"  No?  " 

"  I  can  wait." 

Elise  and  Firmstone  stood  close.  There  was  a 
measure  of  will  opposed  to  will  in  the  unflinching  eyes. 
Elise  felt  a  strange  thrill,  strange  to  her.  With  Pierre 
and  Madame  opposition  only  roused  her  anger,  their 
commands  only  gave  piquancy  to  revolt.  But  now, 
as  she  looked  at  the  strong,  resolute  man  before  her, 
[293] 


THE     BLUE     GOOSE 

there  was  a  new  sensation  fraught  with  subtler  thrills 
of  delight,  the  yielding  to  one  who  commanded  and 
took  from  her  even  the  desire  to  resist.  She  felt  warm 
waves  of  blood  surging  to  her  face.  The  defiant  poise 
of  her  head  was  unchanged,  her  eyes  softened,  but  the 
drooping  lids  hid  them  from  those  that  she  acknowl 
edged  master. 

"  May  I  go  if  I  give  my  answer?  " 

"  If  your  answer  is  right,  yes." 

The  eyes  were  veiled,  but  the  mobile  lips  were  waver 
ing. 

"  Madame  and  I  have  decided  to  go  East." 

The  look  on  Firmstone's  face  changed  from  reso 
lution  to  pleading. 

"  I  have  no  right  to  ask  more,  unless  you  choose 
to  give  it.  Don't  you  know  what  I  want  to  ask  ?  Will 
you  give  me  the  right  to  ask  ?  " 

The  drooping  head  bent  still  lower,  a  softer  flush 
suffused  the  quiet  face. 

Firmstone  took  the  girl's  unresisting  hands  in  his 
own. 

"  Can't  you  give  me  my  answer,  dear?  You  have 
come  to  be  all  the  world  to  me.  You  are  going  away 
for  the  sake  of  your  friends.  Will  you  come  back 
some  time  for  mine  ?  " 

Elise  slowly  raised  her  eyes  to  his.  He  read  his 
answer.  There  was  a  slight  answering  pressure,  then 
her  hands  were  gently  withdrawn.  Firmstone  stood 
[294] 


PASSING     CLOUDS 

aside.     Elise  and  Madame  moved  over  the  threshold, 

the  door  swinging  to  behind  them,  not  quite  shut; 

then  it  opened,  just  enough  to  show  a  flushed  face, 

with  teasing,  roguish  eyes. 

"  I  forgot  to  ask.    Is  that  all,  Mr.  Minion?  " 
Then  the  door  closed  with  a  decided  click. 


THE    END 


[295] 


Author  of  "  The  Pedagogues  " 

THE  TRIUMPH 

r 

THE  TRIUMPH  has  fire  and  pathos  and 
romance  and  exhilarating  humor.  It  is  a  cap 
ital  story  that  will  keep  a  reader's  interest  from 
the  first  appearance  of  its  hero,  the  young  doc 
tor  Neal  Robeson,  to  his  final  triumph  —  his 
triumph  over  himself  and  over  the  lawless,  tur 
bulent  oil-drillers,  his  success  in  his  profession 
and  in  his  love  affair.  It  displays  a  delightful 
appreciation  of  the  essential  points  of  typical 
American  characters,  a  happy  outlook  on  every 
day  life,  a  vigorous  story-telling  ability  working 
in  material  that  is  thrilling  in  interest,  in  a  set 
ting  that  is  picturesque  and  unusual.  The 
action  takes  place  in  a  little  western  Pennsyl 
vania  village  at  the  time  of  the  oil  fever,  and  a 
better  situation  can  scarcely  be  found.  Mr. 
Pier's  account  of  the  fight  between  the  out 
raged  villagers  and  the  oil-drillers  around  a 
roaring,  blazing  gas  well  is  a  masterpiece  of 
story  telling. 

Illustrations  by  W.  D.  Stevens 
Cloth  12mo  $1.50 


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fames  Metier  fctnn 


Author  of  "The  Second  Generation" 

THE  CHAMELEON 

r 

A  HE  author  uses  as  his  theme  that  trait  in 
human  nature  which  leads  men  and  women  to 
seek  always  the  lime  light,  to  endeavor  always 
to  be  protagonists  even  at  the  expense  of  the 
truth.  His  book  is  a  study  of  that  most  inter 
esting  and  pertinent  type  in  modern  life,  the 
sentimentalist,  the  man  whose  emotions  are 
interesting  to  him  merely  as  a  matter  of  experi 
ence,  and  shows  the  development  of  such  a 
character  when  he  comes  into  contact  with 
normal  people.  The  action  of  the  novel  passes 
in  a  college  town  and  the  hero  comes  to  his 
grief  through  his  attempt  to  increase  his  ap 
pearance  of  importance  by  betraying  a  secret. 
His  love  for  his  wife  is,  however,  his  saving 
sincerity  and  through  it  the  story  is  brought  to 
a  happy  ending. 

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Author  of  "  The  House  of  the  Wizard  " 

THE  REBELLION  OF  THE 
PRINCESS 


A.  BOOK  that  is  a  story,  and  never  loses  the 
quick,  on-rushing,  inevitable  quality  of  a  story 
from  the  first  page  to  the  last.  Stirring, 
exciting,  romantic,  satisfying  all  the  essential 
requirements  of  a  novel.  The  scene  is  laid  in 
Moscow  at  the  time  of  the  election  of  Peter  the 
Great,  when  the  intrigues  of  rival  parties  over 
turned  the  existing  government,  and  the  meet 
ing  of  the  National  Guard  made  the  city  the 
scene  of  a  hideous  riot.  It  resembles  in  some 
points  Miss  Taylor's  successful  first  story,  "On 
the  Red  Staircase,"  especially  in  the  date,  the 
principal  scenes  and  the  fact  that  the  hero  is  a 
French  nobleman. 

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Author  of  "  Chimmie  Fadden,"  "  Days  Like  These,"  etc. 

LEES  AND  LEAVEN 


J\O  novel  of  New  York  City  has  ever  por 
trayed  so  faithfully  or  so  vividly  our  new  world 
Gotham  —  the  seething,  rushing  New  York  of 
to-day,  to  which  all  the  world  looks  with  such 
curious  interest.  Mr.  Townsend,  gives  us  not  a 
picture,  but  the  bustling,  nerve-racking  pageant 
itself.  The  titan  struggles  in  the  world  of 
finance,  the  huge  hoaxes  in  sensational  news- 
paperdom,  the  gay  life  of  the  theatre,  opera, 
and  restaurant,  and  then  the  calmer  and  com 
forting  domestic  scenes  of  wholesome  living, 
pass,  as  actualities,  before  our  very  eyes.  In 
this  turbulent  maelstrom  of  ambition,  he  finds 
room  for  love  and  romance  also. 
There  is  a  bountiful  array  of  characters,  admi 
rably  drawn,  and  especially  delightful  are  the 
two  emotional  and  excitable  lovers,  young  Ban 
nister  and  Gertrude  Carr.  The  book  is  unlike 
Mr.Townsend's  "  Chimmie  Fadden"  in  every  thing 
but  its  intimate  knowledge  of  New  York  life. 

Cloth,  12mo  $1.50 


Co. 


.  Ctocfcett 


Author  of  "The  Banner  of  Blue,"  " The  Firebrand" 

FLOWER  O'  THE  CORN 

r 

MR.  CROCKETT  has  made  an  interesting 
novel  of  romance  and  intrigue.  He  has  chosen 
a  little  town  in  the  south  of  France,  high  up 
in  the  mountains,  as  the  scene  for  his  drama. 
The  plot  deals  with  a  group  of  Calvinists  who 
have  been  driven  from  Belgium  into  southern 
France,  where  they  are  besieged  in  their  moun 
tain  fastness  by  the  French  troops.  A  number 
of  historical  characters  figure  in  the  book, 
among  them  Madame  de  Maintenon. 
"  Flower  o'  the  Corn  "  is  probably  one  of  Mr. 
Crockett's  most  delightful  women  characters. 
The  book  is  notable  for  its  fine  descriptions. 

Cloth,  12mo  $1.50 


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as? 


Author  of  "Every  One  His  Own  Way" 

TRUE   LOVE 

A  Comedy  of  the  Affections 


JXERE  commonplace,  every-day,  ordinary 
people  tread  the  boards.  The  characters  whom 
Miss  Wyatt  presents  are  not  genuises,  or  heroes, 
or  heroines  of  romance,  but  commonplace 
persons  with  commonplace  tricks  and  common 
place  manners  and  emotions.  They  do  roman 
tic  things  without  a  sense  of  romance  in  them, 
but  weave  their  commonplace  doings  into  a 
story  of  great  human  interest  that  the  reader 
will  find  far  from  commonplace.  The  vein  of 
humorous  satire,  keen,  subtle  and  refined,  per 
meating  the  story  and  the  characterization,  sets 
this  work  of  Miss  Wyatt's  in  a  class  by  itself. 

Cloth,  12mo  $1.60 


&  Co, 


^aultne  38,  JEacfcte 


Author  of  "The  Washingtonians  " 

THE  VOICE  IN  THE 
DESERT 

r 

A  HIS  is  a  story  of  subtle  attractions  and  re 
pulsions  between  men  and  women  ;  of  deep 
temperamental  conflicts,  accentuated  and  made 
dramatic  by  the  tense  atmosphere  of  the  Ari 
zona  desert.  The  action  of  the  story  passes  in 
a  little  Spanish  mission  town,  where  the  hero, 
Lispenard,  is  settled  as  an  Episcopal  clergyman, 
with  his  wife  Adele  and  their  two  children. 
The  influence  of  the  spirit  of  the  desert  is  a 
leading  factor  in  the  story.  Upon  Lispenard 
the  desert  exerts  a  strange  fascination,  while 
upon  his  wife  it  has  an  opposite  effect  and  an 
tagonizes  her.  As  their  natures  develop  under 
the  spell  of  their  environment,  they  drift  apart 
and  the  situation  is  complicated  by  the  influ 
ence  upon  Lispenard  of  a  second  woman  who 
seems  to  typify  the  spirit  of  the  desert  itself. 
The  spiritual  situation  is  delicately  suggested 
and  all  is  done  with  a  rare  and  true  feeling  for 
human  nature. 

Cloth,  12mo  $1.50 


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Bullocfr 


Author  of  "  The  Barrys,"  "  Irish  Pastorals  " 

THE  SQUIREEN 

r 

MR.  BULLOCK  takes  us  into  the  North  of 
Ireland  among  North-of-Ireland  people.  His 
story  is  dominated  by  one  remarkable  character, 
whose  progress  towards  the  subjugation  of  his 
own  temperament  we  cannot  help  but  watch 
with  interest.  He  is  swept  from  one  thing  to 
another,  first  by  his  dare-devil,  roistering  spirit, 
then  by  his  mood  of  deep  repentance,  through 
love  and  marriage,  through  quarrels  and  sepa 
ration  from  his  wife,  to  a  reconciliation  at  the 
point  of  death,  to  a  return  to  health,  and 
through  the  domination  of  the  devil  in  him, 
finally  to  death.  It  is  a  strong,  convincing 
novel  suggesting,  somewhat,  "  The  House  with 
the  Green  Shutters."  What  that  book  did  for 
the  Scotland  of  Ian  Maclaren  and  Barrie,  "  The 
Squireen  "  will  do  for  Ireland. 

Cloth,  12mo  $1.50 


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Author  of  "  Through  the  Turf  Smoke" 

"A  LAD  OF  THE  O'FRIEL'S" 


A  HIS  is  a  story  of  Donegal  ways  and  customs  ; 
full  of  the  spirit  of  Irish  life.  The  main  char 
acter  is  a  dreaming  and  poetic  boy  who  takes 
joy  in  all  the  stories  and  superstitions  of  his 
people,  and  his  experience  and  life  are  thus 
made  to  reflect  all  the  essential  qualities  of  the 
life  of  his  country.  Many  characters  in  the 
book  will  make  warm  places  for  themselves  in 
the  heart  of  the  reader, 


Cloth,  12mo  $1.50 


,  Phillips  &  Co* 


foel  Cimntiler  partis 

GABRIEL  TOLLIVER 

r 

A  STORY  filled  with  the  true  flavor  of  South 
ern  life.  The  first  important  novel  by  the 
creator  of  "  Uncle  Remus."  Those  who  have 
loved  Mr.  Harris's  children's  stories,  will  find 
in  this  story  of  boy  and  girl  love  in  Georgia 
during  the  troublous  Reconstruction  period,  the 
same  genial  and  kindly  spirit,  the  same  quaintly 
humorous  outlook  on  life  that  characterizes 
his  earlier  work.  A  host  of  charming  people, 
with  whom  it  is  a  privilege  to  become  ac 
quainted,  crowd  the  pages,  and  their  characters, 
thoughts  and  doings  are  sketched  in  a  manner 
quite  suggestive  of  Dickens.  The  fawn-like 
Nan  is  one  of  the  most  winsome  of  characters 
in  fiction,  and  the  dwarf  negress,  Tasma  Tid, 
is  a  weird  sprite  that  only  Mr.  Harris  could 
have  created. 

"  A  novel  which  ranks  Mr.  Harris  as  the  Dickens  of  the 
South."  —  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

"  It  is  a  pretty  love-story,  artistically  wrought,  a  natural, 
healthy  love-story,  full  of  Joel  Chandler  Harris's  inimi 
table  naivete."  —  Atlanta  Constitution. 

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